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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"The Obstacle Race"

"
"Oh, I hope not!" she said quickly. "I hope not!"
"Then I am afraid you are doomed to disappointment," he said, with a
touch of cynicism. "But I am sure you are far too sensible--discreet, I
mean--to let that worry you. And anyway," he smiled abruptly, "I don't
want you to be worried--just when you're having such a jolly time at the
Court too."
"You're very sarcastic," said Juliet.
He laughed a little. "No. That's not me. It's only the armour in which I
encase myself. I hope it doesn't offend you. I can always take it off.
Only--I am not sure you'd like that any better."
He won his point. She smiled, though somewhat dubiously. And at length
her hand gently freed itself from his.
"Well, I don't like hurting people," she said. "And I don't want to hurt
you. You understand that, don't you?" There was pleading in her words.
"Yes, perfectly," he said.
She glanced at him, for his tone was baffling. "And you don't think
me--quite heartless?"
He bent towards her. "No," he said, and though he smiled as in duty bound
she caught a deep throb in his voice that pierced straight through her.
"I love you all the better for it." Then, before she could find words to
protest, "I say, I believe it's left off raining.


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