"No," said I. "I could never give you a left-handed compliment."
"How strange and incomprehensible!" said she, opening her fan.
"What?—that I have never, and could never, give you a—"
"No, no! I was thinking of the likeness. It rather unnerved me. It seemed as though I was looking into a mirror."
"What do you think of her?" suppressing the eagerness in my voice.
"She is to be envied," softly.
And I grew puzzled.
"Jack, for a man who has associated with the first diplomatists of the world, who has learned to read the world as another might read a book, you are surprisingly unadept in the art of dissimulation."
"That is a very long sentence," said I, in order to gain time enough to fathom what she meant. I could not. So I said: "What do you mean?"
"Your whole face was saying to the Princess, 'I love you!' A glance told me all. I was glad for your sake that no other woman saw you at that moment. But I suppose it would not have mattered to you."