"Well—what?"
"I've been waiting for your move. You haven't made it."
She shook her head. "I've no move to make."
"Oh yes, you have—a great big move. You can easily say, Check. I doubt if you can make it, Checkmate."
"I'm afraid that's a game I don't know how to play."
He stared at her inquiringly—noting the disdain with which her chin tilted and her lip curled, though he could see it was a disdain suffused with sweetness.
"Do you mean that you wouldn't—wouldn't give me away?"
"I mean that you're either broaching a topic I don't understand or speaking a language I've never learned. If you don't mind, we won't discuss the subject, and we'll speak our mother-tongue—the mother-tongue of people like you and me."
He stared again. It took him some few seconds to understand her phraseology. In proportion as her meaning broke upon him, his face glowed. When he spoke it was with enthusiasm for her generosity in taking this stand rather than in gratitude for anything he was to gain by it.
"By Jove, you're a brick! You always were. I might have expected that this is exactly what you'd say."