“But you surely meant what you said?” asked Denise.
“Oh yes. But you honour me too much by taking my opinion thus seriously without question, mademoiselle.”
Denise was looking at him with her clear, searching eyes, rather veiled by a suggestion of disappointment.
“I thought—I thought you seemed so decided, so sure of your own opinion,” she said doubtfully.
De Vasselot was silent for a moment, then he turned to her quickly, impulsively, confidentially.
“Listen,” he said. “I will tell you the truth. I said 'Don't sell.' I say 'Don't sell' still. And I have not a shred of reason for doing so. There!”
Denise was not a person who was easily led. She laughed at the stern, strong Mademoiselle Brun to her face, and treated her opinion with a gay contempt. She had never yet been led.
“No,” she said, and seemed ready to dispense with reasons. “You will not sell, yourself?” she said, after a pause.
“No; I cannot sell,” he said quickly; and she remembered his answer long afterwards.
After a pause he explained farther.