"I fear I twisted it more severely than I thought
at first. It is really quite painful."
"Your ankle?" he cried in surprise. "When and how did it happen? I'm
sorry, awfully sorry."
"It happened last night, just as we were crossing the ditch in front--
"
"Last night? Why didn't you tell me? Don't you know that it's wrong to
walk with a sprained ankle? Don't--"
"Don't be angry with me," she pleaded. "You could not have done
anything."
"Couldn't I, though? I certainly could have carried you the rest of
the way,--and upstairs." He was conscious of a strange exasperation.
He felt as though he had been deliberately cheated out of something.
"You poor man! I am quite heavy."
"Pooh! A hundred and twenty-five at the outside. Do you think I'm a
weakling?"
"Please, please!" she cried. "You look so--so furious. I know you are
very, very strong,--but so am I. Why should I expect you to carry me
all that distance when--"
"But, good Lord," he blurted out, "I would have loved to do it. I
can't imagine anything more--I--I--" He broke off in confusion.
She smiled divinely. "Alas, it is too late now. But--" she went on
gaily, "you may yet have the pleasure of carrying me downstairs, Mr.
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