But the dog was not to be pushed away. So Paul had a little battle with the creature, pitching poor Bill away from him, who, however, only floundered tumultuously back again, wild with joy. The two fought together, the man laughing grudgingly, the dog grinning all over. Miriam watched them. There was something pathetic about the man. He wanted so badly to love, to be tender. The rough way he bowled the dog over was really loving. Bill got up, panting with happiness, his brown eyes rolling in his white face, and lumbered back again. He adored Paul. The lad frowned.
"Bill, I've had enough o' thee," he said.
But the dog only stood with two heavy paws, that quivered with love, upon his thigh, and flickered a red tongue at him. He drew back.
And in a minute the dog trotted off happily, to vary the fun.
He remained staring miserably across at the hills, whose still beauty he begrudged. He wanted to go and cycle with Edgar. Yet he had not the courage to leave Miriam.
"I'm not sad; why should I be," he answered. "I'm only normal."
She wondered why he always claimed to be normal when he was disagreeable.
"But what is the matter?" she pleaded, coaxing him soothingly.
He picked up a stick and began to stab the earth with it.
He thrust, thrust, thrust at the ground with the pointed stick, digging up little clods of earth as if he were in a fever of irritation. She gently and firmly laid her hand on his wrist.
He flung the stick into the currant-bushes, and leaned back. Now he was bottled up.
He lay perfectly still, only his eyes alive, and they full of torment.
"You know," he said at length, rather wearily--"you know--we'd better break off."
It was what she dreaded. Swiftly everything seemed to darken before her eyes.
"Why!" she murmured. "What has happened?"
"Nothing has happened. We only realize where we are. It's no good----"
She waited in silence, sadly, patiently. It was no good being impatient with him. At any rate, he would tell her now what ailed him.
"We agreed on friendship," he went on in a dull, monotonous voice. "How often _have_ we agreed for friendship! And yet--it neither stops there, nor gets anywhere else."
He was silent again. She brooded. What did he mean? He was so wearying. There was something he would not yield. Yet she must be patient with him.