"You deserve it, Thusis."
"I know I do. But don't."
My arms slipped from her. I released her. She was still smiling faintly.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry I offered you provocation. I don't know why you seem to tempt me to—to laugh at you a little—not unkindly. But you are so very young to be so solemn——"
"I tell you I will kiss you if you repeat that remark again!"
It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that I dared not: I saw defiance in her brilliant eyes. Something in mine, perhaps, made her prudent; for she suddenly slipped past me and fled up the stairs.
Half way up she turned and looked back. There was an odd silence for a full minute. Then she lifted the candle in mocking salute:
"I defy you," she said, "to tell Mr. Smith what you've been about down here in the cellar with your cook!" I said nothing. She mounted the stairs, her head turned toward me, watching me. And, on the top step:
"Try always to remember," she called back softly, "that the world is a very, very solemn and serious planet for a ponderous young man to live in!"
I don't remember how long after that it was before I picked up my bottles and went out to the fountain where Smith sat awaiting me. I don't know what he saw in my face to arouse his suspicion.