length at supple ease. Leaning on an elbow, he had been watching her for
some time.

Her gaze was on the distant line of hills; on her face that far-away
expression which told him that he was not on the map for her. Used as he
was to impressing himself upon the imagination of women, this stung his
vanity sharply. He liked better the times when her passion flamed out at
him.

Now he lost his sardonic mockery in a flash of anger.

"Do you hear me? I asked you a question."

She brought her head round until her eyes rested upon him.

"Will you ask it again, please? I wasn't listening."

"I want to know what makes you hate me so," he demanded roughly.

"Do I hate you?"

He laughed irritably. "What else do you call it? You won't hardly eat at
the same table with me. Last night you wouldn't come down to supper.
Same way this morning. If I sit down near you, soon you find an excuse
to leave. When I speak, you don't answer."

"You are my jailer, not my friend."

"I might be both."