"Clive!"
"There is no—"
"Clive, obey me!"
So he turned and looked her in the eyes. And after a moment's silence she laughed, uncertainly, almost nervously.
"You—you do imagine it!" she said. "Don't you?"
He made no reply.
Presently she began to laugh again, a gay, tormenting, excited little laugh. Something in his face seemed
to exhilarate her, sending the blood like wine to her cheeks.
"You do imagine it! Oh, Clive! You! You think yourself in love with your old comrade!... I knew it! There was something about you—I can't explain exactly what—but there was something that told me."
She was laughing, now, almost wickedly and with all the naïve and innocently malicious delight of a child delighting in its fellow's torment.