"There is not, of course, any earthly reason why. It was purely my utter stupidity."
He smiled at the flush on her cheek; a smile conjured up by his admiration of it; said merrily:
"Here have I been peacocking around, with a sort of metaphorical feather in my cap. Pampering my vanity, applying the flattering unction to my soul—rubbing it in several times per diem—that no author of my age has turned out so many volumes. Lo! with one breath you blow that feather clean away."
She could not resist laughing at his mock despair. Became at her ease once more; said:
"Indeed not! I don't know what prompted me to say what I did. As to this book——"
"No! Don't! Please don't give me your opinion of it!"
His interruption was a continuance of his burlesque melodramatic style. She did not quite know how to take him; said:
"You mean you would not value my opinion?"
That was disconcerting. Sobered him in a minute. He knew quite well the kind of value he would be likely to put on any opinion of hers—concerning himself.
"Oh, no!" His answer was spoken earnestly. "I do not mea——"