"No?" said Nap, staring back at her with eyes that told her nothing. "P'r'aps I just wanted to show you that you are wasting your solicitude on an object of no value."
"How—funny of you!" said Dot.
She paused a moment, still looking at him; then with a quick, childish movement she slipped her hand through his arm. Quite suddenly she knew how to deal with him.
"You seem to forget," she said with a little smile, "that I'm going to be your sister one day."
He stiffened at her action, and for a single moment she wondered if she could have made a mistake. And then as suddenly he relaxed. He took the hand that rested on his arm and squeezed it hard.
And Dot knew that in some fashion, by a means which she scarcely understood, she had gained a victory.
They went on together along the mossy, winding path. A fleeting shower was falling, and the patter of it sounded on the leaves.
Nap walked with his face turned up to the raindrops, sure-footed, with the gait of a panther. He did not speak a word to the girl beside him, but his silence, did not disconcert her. There was even something in it that reassured her.
They were approaching the farther end of the wood when he abruptly spoke.
"So you think it makes no difference?"