He began at that moment an extended course of marvelling at the ways of woman. For now she had reached the edge of the little open park, and was placidly seating herself on a fallen tree in the grove of quaking aspens. He could not understand this change of manner. And when he reached the opening she again astounded him by greeting him with every manifestation of surprise, from the first nervous start to the pushing up of her dark brows.
“Why,” she began, “how did you ever think of coming here?”
But he had twice hurried fruitlessly this hot morning and he was not again to be baffled. As he advanced toward her, she regarded him with some apprehension until he stopped a safe six feet away. She had noted certain lines of determination in his face.
“Now what’s the use of pretending?—what did you run for?”
“I?—run?”
Again the curving black brows went up in frank surprise.
“Yes,—you run!”
He took a threatening step forward, and the brows promptly fell to serious intentness of his face.
“What did you do it for?”
She stood up. “What did I do it for?—what did I do what for?”