CHAPTER XV.
FINETTA LEARNS THE TRUTH.
"Now tell me everything," repeated Finetta, and she drew an amber satin cushion from the sofa, and seated herself at his feet, her hands clasped round her knees, her dark eyes turned up to him.
Now here was the way ready made for him; but what man ever answered such an appeal at once and fully? Yorke took the cigarette from his lips and looked down at her with a troubled surprise.
"What do you mean?" he said. "How do you know there is anything to tell?"
She laughed, almost contemptuously.
"How do you know when it's going to rain? By the clouds, don't you? Do you think I'm blind, Yorke? I'm not clever like some of your swell friends, but I'm not a fool. I've got eyes like other women, and perhaps they're sharper than some, and I can see something is the matter. I saw it the moment I rode up to you in the park to-day, and I've been watching you all the evening."
"You'd make a decent detective, Fin," he said, trying to speak banteringly.
"I dare say," she assented. "Most women would, especially if they knew the man they were after as well as I know you."
"Yes, we are old friends, Fin," he said.