"But tell me, John, would you have kissed the other woman? Would you really have done it?"
John's honesty certainly was good policy in that instance. The adroit girl had set a trap for him.
"I suppose I would," answered John, with a groan.
"It hurts me to hear the fact," said Dorothy, sighing; "but it pleases me to hear the truth. I know all else you tell me is true. I was trying you when I asked the question, for I certainly knew what you intended to do. A woman instinctively knows when a man is going to—to—when anything of that sort is about to happen."
"How does she know?" asked John.
Rocks and breakers ahead for Dorothy.
"I cannot tell you," replied the girl, naïvely, "but she knows."
"Perhaps it is the awakened desire in her own heart which forewarns her," said John, stealthily seeking from Dorothy a truth that would pain him should he learn it.
"I suppose that is partly the source of her knowledge," replied the knowing one, with a great show of innocence in her manner. John was in no position to ask impertinent questions, nor had he any right to grow angry at unpleasant discoveries; but he did both, although for a time he suppressed the latter.
"You believe she is sure to know, do you?" he asked.