“I cannot say that I have,” she replied, after a pause. “I may, as a child, have felt heart throbs and bashfulness as the little boy over the way came to trundle hoops with me, but I have never felt that fervid and deep emotion which accords with my idea of love.”
“May I ask, then, Miss Finnock, if you have given nothing in return for the many hearts laid at your feet?”
“There have been no——;” she commenced the truth but caught herself, and said:
“I have never had an offer of love I believed sincere, nor, indeed, one that I could reciprocate.”
I knew that I ought not to say anything more, but Carlotta had offended me, and I was reckless.
“But did you believe a love sincere, would you return it?” I asked, deepening my tone of voice to the dramatic.
Her eyes came timidly up to mine, and then fell again as she said softly:
“That depends on whose the love was.”
“Miss Finnock!” I said, drawing hearer, “If I——.”
“Hush! hush! here comes Lil,” she said, raising her hands in warning. “Oh, how provoking!” she added, with a look that was intended to be sweet.