The splendour of her beauty in humility flashed on her father, and he cried out: “You are too good for any man on earth! We won’t talk in the dark, my darling. You tell me he has never, as they say, made love to you?”
“Never, papa.”
“Well, that proves the French story. At any rate, he’s a man of honour. But you love him?”
“The French story is untrue, papa.”
Cecilia stood in a blush like the burning cloud of the sunset.
“Tell me frankly: I’m your father, your old dada, your friend, my dear girl! do you think the man cares for you, loves you?”
She replied: “I know, papa, the French story is untrue.”
“But when I tell you, silly woman, he confessed it to me out of his own mouth!”
“It is not true now.”
“It’s not going on, you mean? How do you know?”