Joan understood. Her flush deepened. "I suppose you feel about her as I do about Peggy," she said quickly. "My first horse! If anything were to happen to her, I'd never feel the same about another.—I'm sorry, Archie! We've had great fun out of the little car."
He shook his big shoulders as if trying to rid them of some burden. "Oh, what does the machine matter?" he said roughly. "What gets my goat is what you must be thinking of me, what your father must be thinking! Of all the dod-blasted he-idiots! Not to be able to take better care of a woman than that!"
"I think, and so does my father, that you took wonderfully good care of me! If it hadn't been for your nerve, your quickness.... Ugh!" she shuddered. "Dad says that not one man out of a thousand would have seen what to do in time to do it. In fact, he's waiting in the library to make you a speech before you go. Eloquence-with-gestures. Do you know, I never realized before that in some ways man is really woman's superior? You've got yourselves better in hand, your muscles do what you tell them to. It was a good lesson for me." She smiled up at him. His miserable eyes touched her, and she held out her hand. "Why, Archie! what makes you look so ashamed?"
He ignored that friendly hand. "I'm thinking that if your father knew all I'd done," he muttered, "he'd do something more to me than make a speech. Eloquence-with-gestures, all right! Gestures of the foot."
Joan decided to take the bull by the horns. "You mean when I came to, and you—kissed me? Why did you do that?" she asked, gravely. ("There! Now the tooth is out," she thought.)
"Because I was a damn fool," he groaned.
Joan's lips twitched despite herself. "Really, you're not very complimentary!"
But Archibald was beyond considerations of mere politeness. "Because I hadn't the decent horse-gumption to keep my feelings to myself! Had to go spilling 'em all over the place, insulting you with 'em!"
There was a pause. "You care for me, then?" prompted Joan.
Archie grinned, miserably. "Well, what do you think?"