Then they walked down a slope to a spot they had seen. She stepped on a rock that lay buried beneath many leaves, and turned her ankle so severely, that he feared it had been sprained. It hadn't; but, as a precaution, he took her arm, and that, perforce, brought them closer together. Thus they walked, until, at the foot of a pine, lay a fallen tree conveniently. They sat themselves thereon, and, leaning their backs against the tree, for a minute, possibly more, they heard their own breathing.
After saying many things that meant nothing, she said:
"Now, you are going to tell me all about yourself today, aren't you?" She ended this beautifully, and waited likewise. His reply was not gallant, if such it could be; but he merely added:
"There is little to tell, Miss Palmer—so little, I'm sure telling it would be dull for you to listen to."
"You have beautiful ways of saying anything," she said, and gave him her best smile. He looked at her now, but without any apparent enthusiasm. His smile was a little tired and weary and sad. Very often he was this way.
"Do you know," Miss Palmer now said, "you have impressed me wonderfully."
"I didn't, I'm sure; but you are complimentary." He was now a mite more cheerful. "In what way, I beg, have I impressed you? In that I can sell books?"
"I don't mean that, and you know I do not," she pouted. "And you can be so innocent, when you want to be. Oh, you are artful. But I mean, if I must say it and then explain why, there is something about you that is unusual. You are in disguise, going through the country studying people, yes, people and what they are, have been and are likely to be." She was thoughtful now, as she sat in serious mood for some time. Presently, she said:
"I've been reading that book, and, of course, I understand you better. Is all that you say in it true?" She was serious now, and anxious too. She waited eagerly for him to speak.
He laughed. Then he said nothing in the affirmative, but indulged in words concerning other topics.