“Yes,” replied Christian quietly. “He seems very nice.”
Something in his tone seemed to catch her attention. She half turned as if to hear more, but he said nothing. Then she raised her eyes to his face, which was not expressive of anything in particular.
“Christian,” she said gravely, “you do not like him?”
Looked upon as a mere divination of thought, this was very quick; but he seemed in no way perturbed. He turned and looked down with a smile at her grave face.
“No,” he replied. “Not very much.”
“Why?”
“I do not know. There is something wrong about him, I think!”
She laughed and shook her head.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “How can there be anything wrong with him—anything that would affect us, at all events?”
He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.