"Ethan, if you never leave me to myself, I—I can't get ready."
He put his arm through hers, and led her out by the veranda down to the second terrace. The servant was spreading a Navajo blanket on the ground, under the catalpa-tree. Val sat down on the barbaric colored rug, and watched Ethan walking to and fro on the edge of the terrace. When they were alone—
"Did you misunderstand me yesterday, that you talk again to-day of getting ready?"
"No, I understood—I understood that because I cried you were ready to let me break the compact if I wanted to."
He had never heard such contempt in her voice. He stopped and looked at her. Her face was strangely hard.
"Not because you cried, but because I see the matter from another—I think better—point of view."
She shook her head.
"You're deceiving yourself because of me."
Her words angered him unaccountably.
"I should have thought it natural that any woman, especially one of your temperament, would have welcomed the suggestion."