Langdon did not speak for a moment or two, and when he did break silence his manner was more decided than before.
"What line do you like best to cross by?" he asked.
"I have been on so many," she answered, "that I really can't tell."
"It is safe to say then that you like a fast boat."
She made no reply, and only played nervously with the clever carving in her hand, where little ivory rats were stealing grain with eternal motionless activity.
"Of course if you were going over this spring," Langdon said, "we should be likely to meet somewhere on the other side; Paris, very possibly. It is a pity that people gossip so, or we might go on the same steamer."
She looked him squarely in the face.
"I am not going abroad this summer," she said distinctly.
"Oh, my dear Louise," returned he half mockingly, half pleadingly, "you really can't mean that. Europe would be intolerably dull without you."
She looked up, pale to the eyes.