"Of course you did," he answered. "That's the very reason you dreamed it."
"But I didn't dream it," she returned triumphantly. "I thought you had grasped that. I didn't dream it. I never dream."
He was not triumphed over.
"Well," he said, "you made it up; that's the same thing—a daydream, a romance."
"I made it up particularly in order to deceive you," Evie explained.
"That's what you think," he answered; "but it isn't true. You made it up in order to let me know you were attracted to me, for I repeat that you are attracted to me."
Little Evie sprang up from the deep chair in which she had sat at ease during so many evening conferences.
"You may repeat it until you are black in the face," she said; "but I'm not, I'm not, I'm not!"
"Don't you see that the emotion with which you repudiate the idea proves that it's the truth?"
An inspiration came to her.