She shook her head, smiling. "Can't be done! But of course you haven't anything to say to me that Sister Veronica shouldn't hear."
"Haven't I, just?" he muttered.
The imp of malice stirred in her again. She asked softly, "What, for instance?"
He gave her a quick look, glanced toward the grille, and plunged, albeit in a very low voice.
"For one thing I want to tell you how lovely you've grown!"
"Louder, please?" said Joan, "I missed that."
He repeated it, with additions. "And you need not pretend you did not hear me, either, you witch. What's happened to you, Joan? I always knew you'd be a wonderful creature some day, but already!—Those exquisite shadows under the eyes, the hollow of your cheek, your lips—What I'd give to paint you now, my dear! Only that it would waste our time together. How much time have you, by the way? For me, I mean?"
"You find me improved, then?" she enquired, demurely.
"Improved! I find you—never mind what I find you! There's a subtlety, a fascination—But I can't express it."
"There must be a subtlety indeed if you can't express it," she commented; and added, "How is Mrs. Rossiter?"