She vouchsafed him a small smile.
"Not yet. But I soon will be, if you don't take care. And I'm dangerous in a temper!"
"Don't I know that? I once had a scratch that didn't heal for a month. But do walk slower. You're not chucking me—for good—eh?"
She slowed down a little, perforce; needing her breath for this new and hopelessly intractable Roy.
"Really, I've never known you ask so many foolish questions in one hour before. You must have drunk some potion up on the moor! Have you forgotten you're my Bracelet-bound Brother?"
"But that doesn't bar—the other thing. It's not one of the Prayer-book affinities! I say, Tara—you might promise to think it over. If you can't do that much, I won't believe you care a bean about me, for all you say——"
Her blue eyes flashed at that—genuine fire; and she stood still again, confronting him.
"Roy—be quiet! You make me furious. I want to slap you. First you suggest a perfectly crazy plan; then you worry me into a temper by behaving like a spoilt boy, who won't take 'No' for an answer."
Roy straightened himself sharply. "I'm not spoilt—and I'm not a boy. I'm a man."
"Well then, try and behave like one."