“Tell me of yourself—of your life,” I said, strangely moved.
She drew back, as though she had been unaware of a listener. The change was so instantaneous that it startled me.
“But—Monsieur—certain things I cannot discuss—”
“Yet you asked me the same questions, didn’t you?”
“I? But I—”
She was thrown into confusion—at loss for an answer—and, all at once, her face went red.
“I only want you to understand, Mademoiselle,” I said, with kindness, “that it seemed a natural thing. It was not an impertinence. I could never be impertinent to you.”
“You make me feel—” She hesitated again. “I am sorry—I didn’t realize. But you made me talk. It were better I should not; I knew I should not.”
“For heaven’s sake, why not?”