“Don’t you believe me?”
“No.”
They were sitting together on the automobile seat, deep in the shade of the foliage above them, but when he caught sight of the indignant face which she turned towards him, it almost appeared as if the sun shone upon it. She seemed about to speak, thought better of it, and reached forward to the little lever that controlled the self-starting apparatus. She found his hand there before she could carry out her intention.
“I am returning, Lord Stranleigh,” she said icily.
“Not yet.”
She leaned back in the seat.
“Mr. Trenton told me that you were the most polite man he had ever met. I have seldom found him so mistaken in an impression.”
“Was it a polite man you set out to find in your recent trip to Europe?”
As the girl made no reply, Stranleigh went on—
“My politeness is something like the dams we have been considering. It contains more than appears on the surface. There is concealed power within it. You may meet myriads of men well qualified to teach me courtesy, but when this veneer of social observance is broken, you come to pretty much the same material underneath. I seldom permit myself the luxury of an escape from the conventions, but on rare occasions I break through. For that I ask your pardon. Impressed by your sincerity, I forgot for the moment everything but your own need in the present crisis.”