Meanwhile the wonder kept growing on me why this exquisite woman should come to me for sympathy. A feeling of pride, too, began swelling my heart to think that I could be of use to others than the hungry and naked, while I thought of the surprising account I should have to give at the dinner-table that evening, of my adventure. My self-complacency was destined to a rude shock. She turned to me suddenly, and asked, "How old would you take me to be?" I looked my surprise, no doubt, but began directly to examine critically the face before me. "I want you to tell me the truth. We don't value flattery from our own sex; at least, I do not."
I could see no trace of time's unwelcome tooth in that smooth, ivory skin, as unwrinkled as a baby's face, while the rounded outlines and dimples would have graced a débutanté.
"You are a long time deciding," she said, playfully—the color coming fitfully under my scrutiny.
"I will hazard twenty, but you may be older."
"You think not any younger than that?" The curving lashes drooped and an entirely new expression swept over the charming face.
"Now you look almost a child," I exclaimed with surprise. "You are a mystery to me, and I won't try to guess any more, for it is pure guess work."
She laughed merrily. "You are greatly mistaken. I was twenty-six yesterday." I may have looked incredulous, and she was very keen to read my thoughts.
"You do not believe me. Did you ever hear of a woman over twenty making herself out older than she was?"
"My experience is but limited." I still believed that for some reason of her own she was deceiving me respecting her age.
"When you hear my story your surprise will be that I do not look six and thirty, instead of a decade younger."