He turned away. "I'm not going to tell you."
"Ah, Daniel dear, do! I know I'm horrid and frivolous and vain, and I tease you, but I'm very fond of you and I should love—oh, love—you to tell me something nice. Quick, Daniel! Quick, before the others come in!"
He was red, and his forehead glistened as he said, "You'll only throw it up at me."
"Oh, as if I would! I don't care for that expression, but I won't. Daniel, some one's coming!"
He blew his nose and bent over his book, yet through the trumpeting and the manipulation of his handkerchief, she heard a word.
"Beautiful," he mumbled.
"Always?"
He nodded, and like a delighted child, she clapped her hands.
Rupert, less debonair than usual, opened the door. "Come on," he said. "We're all ready. Daniel, stay where you are. We don't want you tumbling into the conclave."
"All right, all right."