But instead of being offended she burst into a peal of laughter and advanced into the room.
“Really, M. de Tavernay,” she said, her eyes dancing, “I fear that you are not so harmless as you pretend.”
“But nevertheless you will remain, mademoiselle; you owe me that reparation.”
“Reparation?” she repeated, with raised brows.
“For laughing at me. True you turned away your face, but you could not conceal the quivering of your shoulders.”
She colored deeply and this time retreated in earnest toward the door.
“Oh, do not go,” I pleaded. “I pardon you—it was nothing. Laugh at me again if you wish, only do not go.”
She hesitated, stopped, came back.
“I do beg your pardon, monsieur,” she said. “Believe me, it was not in the least at you I was laughing, but at a sudden thought—at the strange chance——”
She stopped, evidently confused.