“I will tell you, though it is a secret, if you will tell me a secret of yours which I want to know.”
“No,” said Leonore. “I don’t think that’s necessary. You are to tell me without making me promise anything.” Leonore might deprecate a man’s falling in love with her, but she had no objection to the power and perquisites it involved.
“Then I shan’t tell you,” said Peter, making a tremendous rally.
Leonore looked out from under her lashes to see just how much of Peter’s sudden firmness was real and how much pretence. Then she became unconscious of his presence.
Peter said something.
Silence.
Peter said something else.
Silence.
“Are you really so anxious to know?” he asked, surrendering without terms.
He had a glorious look at those glorious eyes. “Yes,” said the dearest of all mouths.