"I feel—I feel horribly, horribly bad!"
Speaking the absolute truth, his voice was absolutely sincere, and he deceived her utterly.
"Maurice," she said, "I believe it's upset you so much that—that you are shy of me."
She laughed happily.
"Shy—of me!"
He tried to laugh, too, and kissed her abruptly, awkwardly. All his natural grace was gone from him. But when he kissed her she did not know it; her lips clung to his with a tender passion, a fealty that terrified him.
"She must know!" he thought. "She must feel the truth. My lips must tell it to her."
And when at last they drew away from each other his eyes asked her furiously a question, asked it of her eyes.
"What is it, Maurice?"
He said nothing. She dropped her eyes and reddened slowly, till she looked much younger than usual, strangely like a girl.