“You’re a better liar than I thought,” she gave her judgment composedly.
“Ugh!” he shuddered at the word. “‘Liar’ is pretty stiff, don’t you think? That’s a fighting word, you know. Now, I should not call it lying, but diplomacy. Same thing, of course, but—uh—quite different, you know.
“But I say,” he bethought himself; “what’d you think of my blushes, eh? Pretty clever, that. Gets you credit for a deal of innocence. I——”
“You surely don’t give yourself credit for the blushes?”
“Why not?”
“You can’t turn it on or off like a faucet.”
“But I can,” he insisted. “Been practising for years. Found it very useful when caught with the goods on.”
She looked at him thoughtfully; he grinned back and nodded his head. As she gazed steadily at him the tips of his ears began again, and slowly the flood welled as before.
“I suppose you are giving me an illustration now?” she asked.
“Am I reddening up again?”