How unnecessary to make the admission of her own illiterateness, and how needless for Constance to be in such a hurry to repeat the confession!
"What an awful sensation it must be being such an ignoramus!" says Gerard's voice, low and laughing, as he sits down on the window-seat beside her. "What does it feel like?"
She looks up with a re-assured smile.
"At all events," continues he, glancing at her book, "you are doing your best to supply your deficiencies, however late in life."
She colours a little, and involuntarily puts her hand over the title.
"What is it? May I see?"
She hesitates, and her other hand goes hastily to its fellow's help; then, changing her mind, she offers the book boldly to him.
He looks at the title, and a slightly shocked expression dawns on his features: men are always shocked that women should read about the things that they do.
"Where did you get this?" (quickly).
"I climbed up the ladder in the library; pleasant books always rise to top shelves, as the cream rises to the top of the milk."