Gallatin passed a miserable moment. He had sensed the question and had tried to prevent it, cold with dismay that Miss Loring should be in earshot. He flushed painfully and for his life’s sake could make no reply.
“It’s true—you’re blushing. I could forgive you for the sin, but for blushing for it—never!”
Gallatin had hoped that Miss Loring might have turned to her other neighbor, but he had not dared to look. Now he felt rather than saw that she was a listener to the dialogue, and he heard her voice—cool, clear, and insistent, just at his ear:
“How very interesting, Nina! Mr. Gallatin’s sins are finding him out?”
“No, I am,” said the girl. “I’ve known Phil Gallatin since we were children, and he has always been the most unsusceptible of persons. He has never had any time for girls. And now! Now by his guilty aspect he tacitly acknowledges a love affair in the Canadian wilderness with a——”
“Oh, do stop, Nina,” he said in suppressed tones. “Miss Loring can hardly be interested in——”
“But I am,” put in Miss Loring coolly. [“Do tell me something more, Nina. Was she young and pretty?”]
[“‘Do tell me something more, Nina. Was she young and pretty?’”]
“Ask this guilty wretch——”