The girl-friend (it was one of them) went past some way as though she had
not seen me, then stopped and called the dog to her several times; but he
only nestled closer to my side, and when I tried to push him away
developed that remarkable power of internal resistance by which a dog
makes himself practically immovable by anything short of a kick. She
looked over her shoulder and her arched eyebrows frowned above her
blanched face. It was almost a scowl. Then the expression changed. She
looked unhappy. "Come here!" she cried once more in an angry and
distressed tone. I took off my hat at last, but the dog hanging out his
tongue with that cheerfully imbecile expression some dogs know so well
how to put on when it suits their purpose, pretended to be deaf.
She cried from the distance desperately.
"Perhaps you will take him to the cottage then. I can't wait."
"I won't be responsible for that dog," I protested getting down the bank
and advancing towards her. She looked very hurt, apparently by the
desertion of the dog. "But if you let me walk with you he will follow us
all right," I suggested.
She moved on without answering me. The dog launched himself suddenly
full speed down the road receding from us in a small cloud of dust. It
vanished in the distance, and presently we came up with him lying on the
grass. He panted in the shade of the hedge with shining eyes but
pretended not to see us. We had not exchanged a word so far. The girl
by my side gave him a scornful glance in passing.
"He offered to come with me," she remarked bitterly.
"And then abandoned you!" I sympathized. "It looks very unchivalrous.
But that's merely his want of tact. I believe he meant to protest
against your reckless proceedings. What made you come so near the edge
of that quarry? The earth might have given way. Haven't you noticed a
smashed fir tree at the bottom? Tumbled over only the other morning
after a night's rain."
"I don't see why I shouldn't be as reckless as I please."
I was nettled by her brusque manner of asserting her folly, and I told
her that neither did I as far as that went, in a tone which almost
suggested that she was welcome to break her neck for all I cared. This
was considerably more than I meant, but I don't like rude girls. I had
been introduced to her only the day before--at the round tea-table--and
she had barely acknowledged the introduction. I had not caught her name
but I had noticed her fine, arched eyebrows which, so the physiognomists
say, are a sign of courage.