A deepening tinge of color crept into the girl’s face, as she looked up at him with smiling eyes, her white teeth showing between her full, red lips.
“We have one more favor to ask of you,” he continued, “a rather peculiar favor and one which, I trust, you won’t misunderstand. Should you decide to grant it, you must do so blindly, without asking a single question as to the why or wherefore.”
“What is it?” asked the girl eagerly.
“Just this: that to-morrow one of our meals shall not be brought by you and that you will let us know in advance which of those meals it is to be.”
The girl’s head dropped and the color paled from her face. For a moment she said nothing. Then she looked up.
“The dinner is ready,” she said. “Why don’t you eat?”
“I can’t eat to-night,” answered Mortimer impatiently.
“It’s horrible to see you pining away in this fashion,” said the girl. “You’ll die if this keeps up.”
“Men don’t die so easily,” replied Mortimer, with a short laugh. “But you haven’t answered what I asked you.”
She hesitated for a moment.