"You are very kind; you permit me to share the children's treat," he says. "May I——" then he pauses, confused.
"Look at me? yes, do," she says, crimsoning painfully. "I want you to tell me—is it true what Mark said—that I am not pretty any more?"
The blue eyes meet hers with the old, strange look that always made her heart beat against her will.
"Mark is a little dunce," he answers, smiling. "He has no eye for anything but roses. I assure you, Lady Vera, that you are as beautiful in your pallor and delicacy as you were in health. More beautiful to me," he adds, his voice falling slightly lower "because now you are kind."
"Kind!"
She arches her dark brows slightly in surprise.
"Yes," he answers. "Did you not know how I have been longing for a sight of your face, Lady Vera? But I dared not ask, and now you allow me to see you of your own free will. You cannot guess how much I thank you."
His voice trembles with feeling. The countess, blushing in spite of herself, tries to make light of it all.
"I did not think of les proprietes when I called you in here," she stammers. "My vanity was so alarmed by Mark's terrible speech that I forgot everything. I think you must go now."
But he lingers.