After a moment's silence: "It's perfectly rotten of me," she said slowly. "But you, also, seem to realize that it can't happen."
"You mean it can't happen without forfeiting your friendship, Thusis?"
"Without incurring my hatred," she said in a curiously still voice, her eyes as cold as grayest ice. "Do it, if you like," she added. "I deserve it. But I shall hate myself and detest you.... Is it worth it? Seriously, Mr. O'Ryan, is your revenge worth my deepest enmity?"
I shrugged. "Thusis," said I pleasantly, "you take yourself very seriously. Don't you?"
"Don't you!" she demanded, flushing.
"I'm sorry, but I really can't." And I lighted a cigarette and picked up my fishing-rod.
"You ask me," I continued, switching my flies out over the water, "whether the possibly interesting operation of kissing you would be worth your cataclysmic resentment. How can I guess? It might not even be worth the effort involved—on my part. To be frank, Thusis, I'm not at all convinced that you'd be worth kissing."
"Is that your opinion?" inquired the girl, nibbling at her under lip and regarding me out of eyes that darkled and sparkled with something or other I could not quite define.
"That is my opinion," said I pleasantly. "Besides, I have a photograph on my dresser which if chastely and respectfully saluted, would, no doubt, prove quite as responsive to a casual caress as would you. And without any disagreeable results."
"Do you do that?" she asked, coloring brightly to the temples, her teeth still busy with her lip.