“I hope it's something very important,” Evadna hinted ungraciously. “Nothing else would excuse this high-handed proceeding.”
When they had reached the great rock where the pond had its outlet, and where was a rude seat hidden away in a clump of young willows just across the bridge, he answered her.
“I don't know that it's of any importance at all,” he said calmly. “I got to feeling rather ashamed of myself, is all, and it seemed to me the only decent thing was to tell you so. I'm not making any bid for your favor--I don't know that I want it. I don't care much about girls, one way or the other. But, for all I've got the name of being several things--a savage among the rest--I don't like to feel such a brute as to make war on a girl that seems to be getting it handed to her right along.”
He tardily lighted his cigarette and sat smoking beside her, the tiny glow lighting his face briefly now and then.
“When I was joshing you there before supper,” he went on, speaking low that he might not be overheard--and ridiculed--from the house, “I didn't know the whole outfit was making a practice of doing the same thing. I hadn't heard about the dead tarantula on your pillow, or the rattler coiled up on the porch, or any of those innocent little jokes. But if the rest are making it their business to devil the life out of you, why--common humanity forces me to apologize and tell you I'm out of it from now on.”
“Oh! Thank you very much.” Evadna's tone might be considered ironical. “I suppose I ought to say that your statement lessens my dislike of you--”
“Not at all.” Grant interrupted her. “Go right ahead and hate me, if you feel that way. It won't matter to me--girls never did concern me much, one way or the other. I never was susceptible to beauty, and that seems to be a woman's trump card, always--”
“Sounds queer, does it? But it's the truth, and so what's the use of lying, just to be polite? I won't torment you any more; and if the boys rig up too strong a josh, I'm liable to give you a hint beforehand. I'm willing to do that--my sympathies are always with the under dog, anyway, and they're five to one. But that needn't mean that I'm--that I--” He groped for words that would not make his meaning too bald; not even Grant could quite bring himself to warn a girl against believing him a victim of her fascinations.