"What did you say?" I asked, feebly.
"I said, 'Pouf!' And I meant it."
Her color was high and her eyes very bright.
"I did like him. He was the first man I had ever had a decent chance to talk to alone,—I mean the first young man of education. And, knowing I hadn't much time, I was quite willing to play at being in love with him. I told him so."
"Maybe," said I, in a weak voice, "he wanted to do more than merely play at being in love."
"But my time is too short," she explained. "I haven't time to fall in love. Why doesn't he take what there is to take?"
"Your time is short—what do you mean, Clelia?"
"It is."
"Are you—ill?"
"No," she said impatiently, "I'm in perfect health."