“Don't be sure of that,” Russell said, “whatever you do.”
“'Whatever I do?'” she echoed. “That sounds as if you thought I COULD be terrific! Be careful; there's one thing I could do that would keep you away.”
“What's that?”
“I could tell you not to come,” she said. “I wonder if I ought to.”
“Why do you wonder if you 'ought to?'”
“Don't you guess?”
“No.”
“Then let's both be mysteries to each other,” she suggested. “I mystify you because I wonder, and you mystify me because you don't guess why I wonder. We'll let it go at that, shall we?”
“Very well; so long as it's certain that you DON'T tell me not to come again.”
“I'll not tell you that—yet,” she said. “In fact——” She paused, reflecting, with her head to one side. “In fact, I won't tell you not to come, probably, until I see that's what you want me to tell you. I'll let you out easily—and I'll be sure to see it. Even before you do, perhaps.”