Her eyebrows lifted in ironic demurrer. “I think you must let me be the judge of that,” she said gently.
“Walk!” he reiterated. “Why, you're walked out. You couldn't go a mile. What do you take me for? Think I'm going to let you come that on me.”
“I don't quite see how you can help it, Mr. Neill,” she answered.
“Help it! Why, it ain't reasonable. Of course you'll ride.”
“Of course I won't.”
She set off briskly, almost jauntily, despite her tired feet and aching limbs.
“Well, if that don't beat—” He broke off to laugh at the situation. After she had gone twenty steps he called after her in a voice that did not suppress its chuckle: “You ain't going the right direction, Miss Kinney.”
She whirled round on him in anger. How dared he laugh at her?
“Which is the right way?” she choked.
“North by west is about it.”