"Let's play just as if we were children, too."
"Tag! You're it!" and I touched her arm and ran. She ran after me in that curious loping fashion peculiar to women. I turned and wound like a hare. She stopped, breathless. "That's no fair!" she cried, "you're running too fast."
"Well, then, I'll almost stand still, then see if you can catch me!"
She made at me, shouting, her face flushed with the exercise. I ducked and swerved and doubled.
"You're quite quick and strong," she exclaimed, admiringly, as I caught her by the shoulders.
I stooped over, hunching my back.
"Come on, play leap-frog," I invited. She hesitated, gave a run at me, put both hands on my back, but caught her left leg on my neck. We collapsed in a laughing heap, she on top of me.
Slowly we disentangled ourselves. I reached a hand and helped her up.
"I'm no good at that, either ... let's stop playing ... I'm tired."
We caught sight of a little man crossing a field, trotting like a dog out hunting on his own. He looked back twice as he went.