"You have been in the country?" laughed Cynthia. "How I pity you!"
"You do not like the country?"
"Not one little bit. I had enough of it when I was a child."
"You were brought up in the country, were you?" said Hubert carelessly. "I should never have taken you for a country-bred girl—although your physique does not speak of town-life, after all."
"Is that meant for a compliment?" said Cynthia, the clear color suddenly rising in her cheeks. "Bah—I do not like compliments—from some people! I should like to forget all about my early life—dull tiresome days! I began to live only when I came to London."
"Which was when you were about fifteen, was it not? You have never told me where you lived before that."
Cynthia made a little moue of disgust.
"You have always been much too polite hitherto to ask unpleasant questions. I tell you I want to forget those earlier years. If you must know, I was at school."
"I beg your pardon," said Hubert; "I had no idea that the subject was so unpleasant to you, or I would not have alluded to it, of course."
Cynthia gave him a quick look.