Chapter 11

           Thetwaincanteredalongforsometimewithoutspeech,Tessassheclungtohimstillpantinginhertriumph,yetinotherrespectsdubious.Shehadperceivedthatthehorsewasnotthespiritedonehesometimesrose,andfeltnoalarmonthatscore,thoughherseatwasprecariousenoughdespitehertightholdofhim.ShebeggedhimtoslowtheanimaltoawalkwhichAlecaccordinglydid.

           “Neatlydone,wasitnot,dearTess?”hesaidbyandby.

           “Yes!”saidshe.“IamsureIoughttobemuchobligedtoyou.”

           “Andareyou?”

           Shedidnotreply.

           “Tess,whydoyoualwaysdislikemykissingyou?”

           “Isuppose—becauseIdon’tloveyou.”

           “Youarequitesure?”

           “Iamangrywithyousometimes!”

           “Ah,Ihalffearedasmuch.”Nevertheless,Alecdidnotobjecttothatconfession.Heknewthatanythingwasbetterthenfrigidity.“Whyhaven’tyoutoldmewhenIhavemadeyouangry?”

           “Youknowverywellwhy.BecauseIcannothelpmyselfhere.”

           “Ihaven’toffendedyouoftenbylove-making?”

           “Youhavesometimes.”

           “Howmanytimes?”

           “YouknowaswellasI—toomanytimes.”

           “EverytimeIhavetried?”

           Shewassilent,andthehorseambledalongforaconsiderabledistance,tillafaintluminousfog,whichhadhunginthehollowsalltheevening,becamegeneralandenvelopedthem.Itseemedtoholdthemoonlightinsuspension,renderingitmorepervasivethaninclearair.