"What?" haughtily, moving away from her.
"I did so yesterday."
"Oh, darling, how cruelly I misjudged you! I thought—I feared——"
"Never mind all that. I know—I forgive you. I've a lovely temper," says Olga, with self-gratulation.
"Why did you refuse him? Was it," hopefully, "because you didn't like him?"
"N—o. Not so much that—as——" again this shameless coquette hesitates, and turns her head uneasily from side to side, as though afraid to give utterance to the truth.
"What? Explain, Olga," says her lover, in a fresh agony.
"As that I——loved you!" returns she, with a heavenly smile.
His arms close round her, and at this moment she lets all her heart be seen by him. The mocking light dies out of her eyes, her face grows earnest. She lets her heart beat with happy unrestraint against his. The minutes fly, but time was never made to be counted by blissful lovers.
A gong sounding in the distance rouses them from their contented dreaming.