Part 29 (1/2)
”Why?”
”Because it seems like doubting your word.”
”I don't see how you can think of me at all without wondering who I am.”
”No, and so I try not to think of you at all.”
”Oh, I don't know that you need do that.”
”I have not quite succeeded.”
The Egyptian's pique had vanished, but she may have thought that the conversation was becoming dangerous, for she said abruptly--
”Well, I sometimes think about you.”
”Do you?” said Gavin, absurdly gratified. ”What do you think about me?”
”I wonder,” answered the Egyptian, pleasantly, ”which of us is the taller.”
Gavin's fingers twitched with mortification, and not only his fingers but his toes.
”Let us measure,” she said, sweetly, putting her back to his. ”You are not stretching your neck, are you?”
But the minister broke away from her.
”There is one subject,” he said, with great dignity, ”that I allow no one to speak of in my presence, and that is my--my height.”
His face was as white as his cravat when the surprised Egyptian next looked at him, and he was panting like one who has run a mile. She was ashamed of herself, and said so.
”It is a topic I would rather not speak about,” Gavin answered, dejectedly, ”especially to you.”
He meant that he would rather be a tall man in her company than in any other, and possibly she knew this, though all she answered was--
”You wanted to know if I am really a gypsy. Well, I am.”
”An ordinary gypsy?”
”Do you think me ordinary?”
”I wish I knew what to think of you.”
”Ah, well, that is my forbidden topic. But we have a good many ideas in common after all, have we not, though you are only a minis--I mean, though I am only a gypsy?”
There fell between them a silence that gave Babbie time to remember she must go.
”I have already stayed too long,” she said. ”Give my love to Nanny, and say that I am coming to see her soon, perhaps on Monday. I don't suppose you will be there on Monday, Mr. Dishart?”
”I--I cannot say.”
”No, you will be too busy. Are you to take the holly berries?”