I could not help shuddering as she spoke. I had made him my enemy, and the thought was terrible.
"He does not like you," she went on; "he did not like the way you regarded his magical story and his thought-reading. Were I you, I should have no further communications with him. I should politely ignore him."
I watched her face as she spoke. Surely there was more than common interest betrayed in her voice; surely that face showed an earnestness beyond the common interest of a passing acquaintance?
"I do not wish to have anything to do with him," I said, "and might I also say something to you? Surely if a man should avoid him, a woman should do so a thousand times more. Promise me to have nothing to do with him. Avoid him as you would a pestilence."
I spoke passionately, pleadingly. She turned her head to reply, and I was bending my head so as not to miss a word when a subtle power seized me. I did not wait for her reply, but turned my head in a different direction.
"Let us join the others," I stammered with difficulty, and rode away without waiting for her consent.
She came up by my side again presently, however, but there was a strange look on her face. Disappointment, astonishment, annoyance, and hauteur, all were expressed. I spoke not a word, however. I could not; a weight seemed to rest upon me, my free agency was gone.
"How do you know they are in this direction?" she said at length. "We have come a circuitous route."
"They surely are," I said. The words were dragged out of me, as if by sheer force of another will, while I looked vacantly before me.
"Are you well, Mr. Blake?" she asked again. "You look strange."