“I’m sorry now.”
“It’s a little late to be sorry.”
She didn’t reply. She was looking out into the light again with peering eyes. Objects in the landscape emerged, shadowless, in pale outline, brightened and disappeared.
“It isn’t like you—not in the least like you,” she murmured. “You’ve rather upset me, Phil.”
“What did you expect?” he asked. “You’ve made a fool of me. You’ve been flirting with me abominably.”
“And you repay me——”
“In your own coin,” he put in.
“Don’t, Phil.” She covered her face with her hands a moment. “You’ve paid me well. Oh, that you could have said that! I meant what I said, Phil, back there. You’ve got to believe it now—you’ve shamed me so. You’ve got to know it—to believe it. I wasn’t flirting with you. I was serious with you when I said I—I loved you. It’s the truth, the ghastly truth, and you’ve got to believe it, whatever happens. No, don’t touch me. I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of a girl. I’m not. I’ve never been kissed before to-night, believe it or not. It’s true, and now——”
She stopped and clutched him by the arm. “Tell me you believe it, Phil,” she said almost fiercely, “that I—that I’m not that kind of a girl.”