She rose and took out of her muff a very pretty little note-book.
"Oh, that is most sweet!" he exclaimed pressing it to his lips. "I will always use it."
But on opening it he was struck with consternation. It was full of bank-notes.
"You have forgotten to take the money out," he said handing her the pocket-book.
"I have not forgotten it. It is for you."
"For me?" he said turning pale.
"Do you not wish for it?" she said, somewhat abashed and blushing scarlet.
"No," he said firmly, "certainly not."
Clementina dared not insist. She took the pocket-book, turned out the bank-notes, and returned it to him. There was a pause of embarrassed silence. Raimundo sat with his elbow on the table, his cheek in his hand, serious and thoughtful. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes, half angry and half curious.
At last a bright smile lighted up her face. She rose from her seat, and taking his head between her hands, she said gaily: