She was playing with the blind-cord in an attitude and humour so youthful that I had a sort of tugging at the heart.
"Perhaps, though," I continued, "I have offended in my very discretion. I should have told you again—that I love you—that you might again enjoy the joke."
She stamped her foot impatiently.
"Of course," she said, "you are cleverer than I—you can be sarcastic, and say things I do not know how to answer."
"You can at least answer my question—Mademoiselle."
She turned and faced me with angry eyes.
"Well—then. I do not like the ways of English gentlemen."
"Ah!"
"You told me that you were not poor, but rich—that you had not become my father's secretary because such a situation was necessary, but—but for quite another reason."
"Yes."