We discussed this question at some length, but I could not help thinking that some other thought was preoccupying Neaera's mind, and presently she stretched her arms over her head and said, "Oh, I am tired of it all!"—then turning on her side she laid her head upon a bare arm, and looking at me, smiled.
It was impossible to mistake her gesture or her smile; it told me that she had not called me to speak of serious things at all; it beckoned me to her side on the divan, and I almost felt myself unconsciously responding to her invitation. But I was aware of danger and refrained. Nevertheless, I was curious to know whether I was accusing her wrongfully, and I said:
"The thing that puzzles me most about you all is—" I hesitated intentionally, and she helped me.
"What is it?"
"I don't know how to say it."
"Bashful?"
"A little."
"Can I guess?"
"I think you can."