"I must be honest, it is."
With every atom of conceit knocked out of me, wincing, chagrined, I found nothing to say to this pretty woman who sat so close beside me and looked at me with a half smile hovering on her lips and out of sweet, dark eyes that seemed utterly honest—God help her.
"It is only your vanity that is smarting a little," she said, smiling, "not your heart. I haven't touched that at all."
"How do you know?" I retorted.
"Because you are in love with somebody else, Mr. O'Ryan."
"With whom?" I demanded defiantly.
"I don't know. But you are in love. A woman can tell."
"I am not in love," said I with angry emphasis, recollecting the treatment meted out to me by Thusis. "I'm not in love with anybody." I caught her doubting but interested eyes fixed intently on me—"unless," I added recklessly, "I'm in love with you."
"But you're not."
We looked at each other curiously, almost searchingly, not inclined to laugh yet ready, perhaps, for further mischief. Why not preoccupy my mind with this amusing and pretty woman, and slay in my heart all regard for Thusis?