She turned her head, and once more her gaze rested on his face.
"No," she said softly, "it isn't that. It is that I don't believe I could enlighten you—even if I would. I am a puzzle to myself."
"The deeper a riddle, the more tempting its solution."
Very quietly he drew still nearer, until his foot touched the hem of her skirt.
The action, more than the words, startled her. With a little laugh, she drew back into her seat.
"Perhaps it is no riddle after all!" she said quickly. "Perhaps it is the lack of human nature—the likeness to Mr. Luard's 'Sir Galahad.'"
She laughed again nervously. Then suddenly her own words suggested to her a new and less dangerous channel of talk.
"When is this wonderful person to be in Venice?" she asked. "I should like to see him."
But Lord Deerehurst had no intention of allowing another man's name to interfere with his pleasure.
"Mrs. Milbanke," he said earnestly, "may I ask you another question—-a serious one?"