She may have flushed slightly, but her chin kept its tantalizing tip and her eyes their laughing mischief.
"One never knows what one can do until one tries," she said; and after a dangerous hesitation, added: "I believe this is the first day you've really attempted any serious work since you came."
Now, when a girl balances on the edge of a table in a softly lighted room, with her hands clasped about one of her knees, her chin tipped enticingly up, and a riot of mischief rippling through her eyes and parted lips, she has no business telling an over-toddied gentleman that he'll never know what he can do until he tries. She may add that she refers to the building of a railroad, to the conquering of a nation, to the playing of a hand of bridge—but he will see nothing beyond the seductive challenge. And Brent looked another instant at that enticing picture, then stooped down and kissed her hair.
There was no tilted chin, no laughing challenge, now as she sprang up and faced him. The change in her was like that of a limpid pool which has suddenly become roiled by a violent splash, and her eyes flashed as though all the vials of hate were about to be broken upon his head.
"I thought you were a gentleman." Her voice came slowly, with such utter contempt that he winced.
"Your thought is quite correct," he said. "I am a gentleman, and a man, and therefore vulnerable to such a temptation as you willfully threw at me."
Her cheeks flamed. "I never dreamed of such a thing!"
"Don't misunderstand me. I didn't say invitation; I said temptation."
"But you meant invitation," she hotly retorted.
"I know I did," he surprised her by admitting, "and you meant invitation, also. If you didn't, you're stupid;—and I'd rather think of you as daring than stupid."