She laughed, standing up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Dear man,” she said, “I refuse to lose my temper, because I know that’s just what you want me to do. You think that if you’re rude enough I’ll dash off and leave you to stew. And I can promise you I shan’t do anything of the sort. I know it isn’t going to be a picnic—but I’m sorry if you think I’m a girl that’s only fit for picnics. I’ve always fancied myself as the heroine of a hell-for-leather adventure, and this is probably the only chance I shall ever have. And I’m jolly well going to see it through!”
Simon held himself in check with an effort. He had a frantic impulse to take this stubborn slip of a girl across his knee and spank some sense into her; and coincidently with that he had an equally importunate desire to hug her and kiss her to death. For there was no doubt that she was determined to ride on to the kill, however dangerous the country her obstinate intention led her over. Why she should be so set on it beat the Saint. He could imagine a high-spirited girl fancying herself as the heroine of just such an adventure, but he had never dreamed of meeting a girl who’d go on fancying herself quite so keenly when it came to the point, and when she’d had a peek at some of the stern and spiky disadvantages. But there she was, smiling into his eyes, tranquilly announcing her resolution to see the shooting-match through with him, and boldly averring that she was perfectly prepared to eat the whole cake as well as the icing. She was going to be the blazes of a nuisance and the mischief of a worry to him—“But, Hell!” swore the Saint to himself—“I’m darn glad of it!” Wherein he betrayed his egotism. It would be a gruelling test for her, but he’d have her with him all the time. And if she came through it with flying colours, well, maybe after all he’d go the way of most confirmed bachelors. . . .
And since he saw that neither cajoling nor cursing would budge her, he accepted the situation like a wise man. And even then (with such an inferiority complex is Love afflicted) the sublime egotist did not spot the foundation of her determination, though it stuck out a mile. Nevertheless, in his blindness he was very near to blundering straight into the heart of the affair. His scowl relaxed, and he took her hand from his shoulder and held it.
“I’ve known some fool women,” said the Saint, “but I never met one whose foolishness appealed to me more than yours.”
“Then—it’s a bet?” she asked.
He nodded.
“You said it, partner. And the Lord grant we win. It’s not my fault if you insist on jazzing into the Tiger’s den, but it’ll be my unforgivable fault if I don’t yank you out again safely. Shake!”
“Bless you,” said Patricia softly.