"Miss Cooper," said I, "I am against no man—except the guilty one; and even he, in a measure, has my sympathy."
"Then"—she was suddenly breathless—"in your estimation. Royal is not the—the—not the guilty—"
My smile checked her. Alas, I was not to escape.
"You read a meaning into my speech that was not in my mind," I said—and immediately regretted it. Her countenance at once reflected a deep concern.
"Please, please, Mr. Swift, don't be inscrutable with me," she pleaded.
I thrilled at the wistful light in her handsome blue eyes, and I looked longingly at the wavy brown tresses and at the scarlet lips, now eagerly parted and revealing a glimpse of pearly perfection beyond. Such delectable realities were quite unknown in my lonely life, and before them the image of Miss Fluette's more highly colored and aggressive beauty faded away to a mere blur.
"Miss Cooper," I rejoined, with perhaps unnecessary warmth, "heaven forbid that I should not be frank with you. The truth is, I 'm sorely perplexed. It did not require this appeal from you to spur me on to find a way for Mr. Maillot out of his predicament, for undeniably—whether by his own fault or by accident—he 's in a very serious one. Maybe, if you will state more definitely just what you want to know, I can then tell you."
The expressive eyes thanked me, then suddenly twinkled with a gleam of humor.
"Even a mere man," she sagely remarked, "could not have remained blind to the fact that Belle and Royal—foolish children!—are awfully fond of each other."
"Your assumption of mature wisdom is eminently becoming," said I, "because it is so apparent."