"There is no harm done," he answered, drawing up a chair in front of her and gazing at her with the same slow, sweet smile he had worn when he bade her return to his mother and the count that evening. "I was smoking at the window when you first came in, and I thought at first I would be still and not disturb you, thinking you would go in a moment. But you stayed, and—I changed my mind."
Fancying some covert meaning in his words, she answered, quickly:
"But it is late, and indeed I must be going upstairs now."
[CHAPTER XXII.]
St. Leon glanced at his watch.
"No, it is not late—at least, not midnight. Surely you can spare me a few minutes, Miss Gordon. I wish very much to speak to you," he said, almost gravely.
"I cannot imagine why you should wish to speak to me," she began, tremulously.
"Cannot you?" laughing. "Well, suppose I have a mind to lecture you on your frivolity, Miss Gordon? Do you know, I never dreamed what an egregious flirt you were until I saw you bringing the whole battery of your charms to bear on that fascinated Frenchman this evening? Why have you never condescended to me likewise?"
"I deny the imputation. I am not a flirt," she answered, indignantly.