"Poor man!" she remarked, sympathetically. "I'm afraid I have been treating you rather mercilessly; and you don't look particularly happy sitting on that deodar, either! I suppose I may consider it something of a triumph to have dragged a high priest of the arm-chair unprotesting up to the heights at this unearthly hour of the morning?"
"A triumph exclusively your own," he answered, with lingering emphasis.
"No other woman in the world could have achieved as much."
Quita glanced at him quizzically.
"I honestly wonder," she said slowly, "if you could reckon up at random how many times you have said that sort of thing before."
Garth reddened visibly; less at the justice of the retort than at the humiliation of being put out of countenance by a woman from whom he desired no less a gift than the gift of herself.
"Well, I never meant it fair and square before," he declared stoutly.
Whereat, to his consternation, she laughed outright.
"You seem to have a high opinion of my powers of credulity! That is too big a compliment for me to digest without salt! But I think we have talked nonsense enough for one while, and it's growing lighter every minute. Are you coming on? Or would you sooner sit there in peace while I push up to the top?"
The suggestion brought him to his feet.
"No, by no means. When I set out to do a thing, I go through with it."
"Rally your forces, then, for one more spurt of climbing. Time is precious. Can you really manage this formidable boulder, or would you like a hand up?"