"Why did you ask my forgiveness?"
She made a sharp gesture of repudiation.
"What was there to forgive?" he insisted.
"I—I am not going to tell you," said Betty, with great distinctness.
Again he overlooked her open defiance.
"You are afraid. Why?"
"I'm not!" said Betty almost fiercely.
"You are afraid," he repeated deliberately, "afraid of my finding out—something. Betty, look at me!"
Her face was scarlet. She turned it swiftly from him.
"Let me go!"