She smiled lightly. "I suppose you'll come to the offices of the company—occasionally?" She drew nearer, stood at the corner of the desk. Into her exquisite eyes came a look of tenderness. "And I shall be glad to see you."
"You mean that?" he said, despising himself for his humble eagerness, and hating her even as he loved her.
"Indeed I do." She smiled bewitchingly. "You are a lot better man than you think."
"I am an awful fool about you," retorted he. "You see, I play my game with all my cards on the table. I wish I could say the same of you."
"I am not playing a game," replied she. "You make a mystery where there isn't any. And—all your cards aren't on the table." She laughed mockingly. "At least, you think there's one that isn't—though, really, it is."
"Yes?"
"About your engagement."
He covered superbly. "Oh," said he in the most indifferent tone. "Tetlow told you."
"As soon as I heard that," she went on, "I felt better about you. I understand how it is with men—the passing fancies they have for women."
"How did you learn?" demanded he.