And yet
it was, after all, only a part of something she had decided she must
make clear to him, ever since he had surprised her there at the road
edge; it was part of an explanation which, without quite knowing why,
she felt was due to him. But she had not meant to employ that abrupt
confession as a preface. That made it inconceivably harder, it seemed.
And he, silent at her feet, stared out at the blue rim of the hills and
gave her no assistance now--not so much as a smile. She sat a long
time, nursing one slim knee between her palms.
"Mr. O'Mara," she appealed to him at last, "how might one reopen a--a
rather difficult subject with--with a suddenly most difficult
conversationalist?"
Without turning his head he made answer:
"I think Fat Joe's method is as good as any," he suggested. "Joe says
the only way to reopen any argument is to take a running jump and land
all spraddled out, right in the middle of it. He insists that such
procedure leaves no doubt in the mind of anyone that the discussion is
about to be resumed."
She laughed a little.
"Then shall we consider that I've taken--the--the jump, and landed?"
Just when she was wishing most that she could see his face he swung
around toward her. Again his gravity was a totally gentle thing. It
made her remember the self-possessed kindliness with which he had met
her unreasoning rage the night before.
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