"Thank you; then will you have the goodness to resume your seat while I load up? One can't talk to a person who will persist in standing."
She sank down again upon the turf. As he crammed the tobacco into the bowl of his briar she regarded the tablecloth with doubtful eyes.
"Can I--can I clear away the things, and wash up for you?"
"No, you can't; all you can do is sit still, and talk. Let me begin by introducing myself; my name is Frazer--Eric Frazer. You were so kind as to tell me last night that yours was Dorothy. As it is unusual for a man to address a woman by her Christian name after such a short acquaintance as ours hath been, may I ask you to tell me what your surname is, so that we can start fair?"
She hesitated; then told him a falsehood; she herself could not have said why.
"My name is Greenwood."
Somehow, the instant she had spoken, she felt he doubted. He looked at her, over the lighted match which he was holding to the bowl of his pipe; and, though she did not try to meet his glance, she knew that in it there was something sceptical.
"Greenwood?--your name is Greenwood? Dorothy Greenwood--Miss Greenwood. Thank you; I am flattered by the confidence in me which your telling me your name implies." Having completed the operation of lighting his pipe, folding his arms across his chest, he observed her with a steady attention which made her feel curiously uncomfortable. She began to wish that, ill-mannered or not, she had gone when she said she would. Nor were matters improved when he began to ask her questions; which he did in a cool, level voice which, for some cause, jarred upon her nerves. "You were so good as to inform me, also last night, when I inquired how it was that I was so fortunate as to be favoured with your society, that you came from the road. Now the road runs both ways; which one did you come from?"
Summoning her courage she looked at him with what she meant to be defiance.
"I would rather not tell you, if you don't mind."