“I had not gotten used to the unusual restriction” he exclaimed. “You’re the first woman ever I met or heard of who dislikes compliments.”
“I don’t dislike compliments, Mr. Harleston; but compliments, it seems, are given in diplomacy for a purpose; and as I don’t understand anything of diplomacy we would better cut them out—until we have finished with diplomacy. Then you may offer as many as you like, and I’ll believe them or not as I’m minded.”
“Have it as you wish!” he smiled, looking into the brown eyes with frank admiration.
“Compliments may be conveyed by looks as well as by words,” she reproved.
“But of the feeling that prompts the look you can be in no doubt. Moreover, a look is silent.”
“Nonsense,” said she. “Besides, I want to ask you a favour. You see, I’m prepared to go out—and I want you to go with me. Will you do it?”
“It will have to be mightily against my conscience to make me refuse you,” Harleston replied.
“I’m glad you recognize a conscience,” she remarked.
“I refer to my diplomatic conscience.”
“And a diplomatic conscience is a minus quantity,” she observed.