Then Thusis rose, and I stood up on the step below her.
"You funny boy," she said, "you mustn't worry about me."
"Does it surprise you?"
She laughed under her breath.
"Nothing surprises me any more, Michael. I am past being astonished at anything—at my own behavior, at yours. You wouldn't understand me if I say that, ordinarily, this rather improper costume of mine wouldn't embarrass me."
"You mean," said I, "that the social difference between us leaves you indifferent to me as a man?"
She bit her lip, looked at me with a flushed, distressed little smile.
"Yes, I meant that."
I nodded: "The indifference of a bathing princess to the slaves who stand beside her litter."
"It was—that way with me—once," she said, wincing, but still smiling through the color that surged in her face. "You would wish me to be honest with you, wouldn't you, Michael?"