"That would be—my secret."
"Is it that you think you couldn't love me?"
For the first time the color came to her cheek and surged up to her temples, not suddenly or hotly, but with the semi-diaphanous lightness of roseate vapor mounting into winter air. As he came nearer, rounding the protective barrier of the arm-chair, she retreated.
"I should have to solve some other questions before I could answer that," she said, trying to meet his eyes with the necessary steadiness.
"Couldn't I help you?"
She shook her head.
"Then couldn't you consider it first?"
"A woman generally does consider it first, but she speaks about it last."
"But you could tell me the result of what you think, as far as you've drawn conclusions?"
"No; because whatever I should say you would find misleading. If you're in earnest about what you say to-night, it would be better for us both that you should give me time."