“No—no... I was thinking of something!...”
Almost angrily he struck out at a swift pace. He would show her who was the weakling in this little party! He would make her cry for mercy!
But she struck out with him. Swinging along at better than four miles an hour they followed the road into another valley and for a mile or two along by a bubbling brook.
It was Peter who slackened first. His feet began hurting: an old trouble with his arches. And despite the tang in the air, he was dripping with sweat. He mopped his forehead and made a desperate effort to breathe easily.
Sue was a thought flushed, there was a shine in her eyes; she danced a few steps in the road and smiled happily.
“That's the thing!” she cried. “That's the way I love to move along!”
Apparently she liked him better for walking like that. It really seemed to make a difference. He set his teeth and struck out again, saying—“All right. Let's have some more of it, then!” And sharp little pains shot through his insteps.
“No,” said she, “it's best to slow down for a while. I like to speed up just now and then. Besides, I've got something on my mind. Let's talk.” He walked in silence, waiting.
“It's about that other talk we had,” said she. “It has bothered me since. I told you your plays were dreadful. You remember?”
He laughed shortly. “Oh, yes; I remember.”