“And say it’s good.”
“But what’s the use?”
“And say it’s good,” insisted Io.
“It’s marvelous,” agreed her unsmiling host.
Far from being satisfied with words and tone, which were correctness itself, Io was insensately exasperated.
“You’re treating me like a child,” she charged.
“How do you want me to treat you?”
“As a woman,” she flashed, and was suddenly appalled to feel the blood flush incredibly to her cheeks.
If he noted the phenomenon, he gave no sign, simply assenting with his customary equanimity. During the luncheon she chattered vaguely. She was in two minds about calling off the projected walk. As he set aside his half-emptied cup of coffee—not even tactful enough to finish it out of compliment to her brew—Banneker said:
“Up beyond the turn yonder the right-of-way crosses an arroyo. I want to take a look at it. We can cut through the woods to get there. Are you good for three miles?”