"Suppose," she said, "that you do follow me—not very fast—just saunter along—so that I need not run?"
She did not smile; neither did I.
"Would that be agreeable to you, Michael?"
"Would it be agreeable to you, Thusis?"
"Yes, it would.... Please don't come upstairs! Does it give you any pleasure to scare me and see me run?"
I had one foot on the stairs; and let it remain there.
"When I say saunter, I mean it, Michael. Just stroll around—in my vicinity—describing a few leisurely circles—so that I'll not notice your approach. Couldn't you do that—and keep within sight?"
"I'll try."
Suddenly her eyes grew brilliant and she smothered a laugh with her hands. Then, as both palms clung flat to her laughing lips she deliberately kissed them and, with a pretty gesture, threw the reckless salute at me.
"Your humble servant, Don Michael!" she whispered, "your housekeeper salutes you—and runs!"