"Oh, that's ridiculous," said Leonetta; "as if I'd never seen a bunny shot in my life before. But let me think, what were we saying? Oh, yes, I know. You were going to read me."
He laughed.
She looked coyly up at him. "You know, Lord Henry, you really are a little disconcerting. You are one of those people who make one feel one ought to have done better at school."
"I devoutly trust I don't," he protested.
She examined his fine intelligent hands, and perceived as so many had perceived before her, the baffling mixture of deep thoughtfulness and youth in his eyes and brow.
"You do a little," she said, picking up a leaf and bending it about as she spoke. "And I do hate feeling stupid."
"You—stupid!" he ejaculated, and laughed.
"You must know what I mean," she added.
"You are beautiful, Leonetta," he said, "and that in itself is the greatest accomplishment, because it cannot be acquired."
"I thought you hadn't noticed me at all," she observed, trying to conceal the rapture she felt.