If the blunt question were a shock to him he did not show it. He answered in his pleasant, even voice:
"I don't know who you are, Thusis."
"Have you any idea?"
"None."
"How can that be," she asked, flushing, "when you send me such a couplet?"
"I've told you the truth," he said simply; "I don't know who you are, Thusis. I don't even suspect." He turned and looked at Clelia who had risen from her seat on the fountain's edge.
"You do not like me, Clelia, and now you are going to like me less. You resented it when I preached at you concerning proper behavior for a young girl. And now that you learn I am going to interfere in your political and military maneuvers, I suppose you hate me."
Nobody moved or spoke for a moment. Then Clelia took a step toward Smith, and I saw her face had become deadly pale.
"No," she said, "I don't hate you. On the contrary I am beginning to like you. Because it takes a real man to tell the woman he loves that he means to ruin her."
"Clelia, you and Thusis are ruined only if I hold my hand."