[52]

He wondered how she had found out, for he certainly had made no sound she could have heard. With the fourth and most vigorous knock he discovered the secret. He noted that his body against the door made the knock sound differently. He hastily lifted himself away, put his hands against the door high up above where she, merely a person of medium height, and woman’s medium height at that, could reach. When she knocked again he felt absurd. For the sound, hollow once more, must reveal to her that there was indeed some change of conditions within, proving beyond doubt the presence of some intelligent—or, at least, brain-using—being.

His poor opinion of himself and his fear of her sagacity were forthwith justified. “It’s only I,” she called. “So you can open.”

The impudence! As if he were eager to see her, would instantly open for her! Why, she was positively brazen, this sweet, innocent young girl. No—that was unjust. Just because she was innocent she did these outlandish, outrageous things. Yet how could a girl of twenty-two, out four years, extremely intelligent—how could she be thus unaware of what was proper and modest[53] for a young woman dealing with a bachelor? How could she venture upon—no, not merely venture upon, but boldly tackle, grapple with—the subject which the maiden should never so much as hint until the man has forced it upon her? “I don’t understand it,” he muttered. “She’s some queer mixture of craft and innocence. And where the one begins and the other ends I’m blessed if I know. There’s some mystery in this. She’s got some notion—some false notion—or something—Heaven knows what. All I know is, she’s got to stop hounding me—and she’s not going to get in.”

[53]

As if she had heard these angry but cautious undertones she said: “Now, Chang, don’t be a silly. I know you’re against the other side of the door. I could tell by the way the knocks sounded. Besides, I’ve just peeped through the crack underneath and I saw your big feet.”

Then he did feel like an ass! Caught holding a door, like a ten-year-old boy—he, a great, huge, grown man, no less than thirty-two years old! Still, of the two absurd courses open to him—to let her in and to continue to bar her out—the less absurd was the latter. To face her with a red and sheepish countenance—to face her mocking smile—that was not to be thought of.

“Don’t be afraid, Chang,” she scoffed. “I haven’t got a clergyman with me.”

[54]“Run along home, 

 Prev. P 31/220 next