I rose in extreme confusion.
"Lord, how red you did get!" she said. "Well it was awfully awkward of
you."
"Yes, it was," I agreed, and we began the chase afresh.
"It seems to me you limp."
"Yes; perhaps I do--just a little--only just a little, for that matter."
"Last time you had a sore finger, now you have got a sore foot; it is
awful the number of afflictions you have."
"Ah, yes. I was run over slightly, a few days ago."
"Run over! Tipsy again? Why, good heavens! what a life you lead, young
man!" and she threatened me with her forefinger, and tried to appear
grave. "Well, let us sit down, then; no, not down there by the door; you
are far too reserved! Come here--you there, and I here--so, that's it ...
ugh, it's such a bore with reticent people! One has to say and do
everything oneself; one gets no help to do anything. Now, for example, you
might just as well put your arm over the back of my chair; you could
easily have thought of that much out of your own head, couldn't you? But
if I say anything like that, you open your eyes as wide as if you couldn't
believe what was being said. Yes, it is really true; I have noticed it
several times; you are doing it now, too; but you needn't try to persuade
me that you are always so modest; it is only when you don't dare to be
otherwise than quiet. You were daring enough the day you were tipsy--when
you followed me straight home and worried me with your witticisms.
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