"You're mighty clever; you've struck on just what I mean. See here, you don't know me and I don't know you——" At this Joan turned her face away. "And I'm jolly glad we don't. It makes it all easier. I know very little about girls—I dance with them and things like that when I have to, but as a class I never cottoned to them much, nor they to me. I know the ugly names tacked to things that might be innocent and happy enough. Now your business—it could be a cover for something rather different——?"
"But it isn't!" Joan broke in, hotly.
"I'm sure of that, but hear me out. There's something about you that—that's got me. I can't forget you. I only want to know what you care to give—the part that escapes the disguise that you wear! I want to talk to you. I bet we have a lot to say to each other. Don't you see it would be like fencing behind a shield? But how can we make this out unless we utilize chances that might, if people were not decent and honest, be wrong? I know I'm getting all snarled up—but I'm trying to make you understand."
"You're not doing it very well." Joan was sweetly composed.
"Now suppose you and I were introduced—you with your veil off—that would be all right, wouldn't it?"
Raymond was collecting his scattered wits.
"Presumably. Yes—it would," Joan returned.
"And then we could have all the talks we wanted to, couldn't we?"
"Within proper limitations," Joan nodded, comically prim under the circumstances.
"But for reasons best known to you," Raymond went on, slowly, "you want to keep the shield up? All right. But then if we want the talks——"