“Why I want to keep it.”
“I don’t think I am—especially interested,” she answered coldly. “Are you going to return it?”
“Maybe; in a moment. You don’t want to hear the reason?”
“I—Oh, well, what is the reason?” she asked impatiently.
“A very simple one. As a handkerchief merely it doesn’t attract me especially. I have seen more beautiful ones, I think——”
“Well!” she gasped.
“My desire to keep it arises from the simple fact that it is yours, Clytie.”
She strove to meet his gaze with one exhibiting the proper amount of haughty resentment. But the attempt was a failure. After the first glance her eyes fell, the blood crept into her face and she turned quickly away.