The Dictator was not skilled in the wiles of coquetry. He fell innocently into the snare.
'The truth is,' he said simply, 'I hardly know any girl but you.'
Surely the Dictator had spoken out one of the things we ought to wish not to have said. It amused Helena, however, and greatly relieved her—in her present mood.
'Come,' she exclaimed, with a little spurt of laughter which was a relief to the tension of her feelings; 'the compliment, thank heaven, is all gone! I must be the dearest girl in the world to you—I can't help it, whatever my faults—if you do not happen to know any other girl!'
'Oh, I didn't meant that.'
'Didn't mean even that? Didn't even mean that I had attained, for lack of any rival, to that lonely and that inevitable eminence?'
'Come, you are only laughing at me. I know what I meant myself.'
'Oh, but please don't explain. It is quite delightful as it is.'
They were now under the lights of the windows in Seagate Hall, and only just in time to dress for dinner.