“She’ll tell absolutely no one.”
“Because she’s perfect, I suppose?”
“Because she didn’t for one moment believe me.”
“Didn’t believe we were engaged?”
“Didn’t believe that any one could be engaged to so beautiful and charming a person as you are and not be in love with her.”
Christine’s manner softened slightly. “She thinks me charming?”
“She thinks you irresistible, almost as irresistible as Laura thinks you; and she is trying to find out why I am so eager to deceive her in the matter.”
Christine clapped her hands, and executed a few steps. “She’s jealous, too,” she cried. “The perfect woman is jealous. I never thought of her suffering, too.”
“She is not jealous, but I suppose it may hurt her feelings a little that I shouldn’t—”
“Oh, nonsense, Max, she loves you. Do you think I could be deceived on such a subject? She watches you all the time. She loves you. And I think it would be very impertinent of her not to. I should think very poorly of her if she didn’t. Imagine what she must be undergoing at this moment, by our prolonged absence.”