"You make me—afraid," she said nervously.
"Of what?" laughed he. "Not of me, certainly. Then it must be of yourself. You are afraid you will end by wanting me to want you."
"No—not that," declared she, confused by his quick cleverness of speech. "I don't know what I'm afraid of."
"Then let's go to your father. . . . You'll not tell Tetlow what I've said?"
"No." And once more her simple negation gave him a sense of her absolute truthfulness.
"Or that I've been here?"
She looked astonished. "Why not?"
"Oh—office reasons. It wouldn't do for the others to know."
She reflected on this. "I don't understand," was the result of her thinking. "But I'll do as you ask. Only, you must not come again."
"Why not? If they knew at the office, they'd simply talk—unpleasantly."