“I have a splitting headache, and came out into the open air and it was very tempting to feel the cool water on my burning temple.”
His lip curled. “I have not the least doubt,” he made answer, “that your head aches. It seems to be the natural result when a woman indulges in such a ‘good cry’ as I have witnessed during the last half hour. Was the cry a result of the headache or the headache the result of the cry?”
Alice detected the sneer underlying the words, but chose to appear unconscious.
“Whichever you please; my pain is great enough to cause the tears, and tears again are liable to produce headache.”
“Prevaricating!” he sneered. “But, my lady, I see deeper, and have been seeing rather deep for some time past. But to change the subject, I have had a revelation tonight. Our friends, your friend and mine, have concluded to become more than friends; that is, if appearances do not deceive.”
His eyes were resting searchingly upon the face of the woman before him, and his cunning was in vain. Not a line of the pale face moved. She continued laving the aching brow and swollen eyelids and vouchsafed him no answer.
“You heard what I said?”
“I heard what you said.”
“Well, what do you think of it?”—this time impatiently.
“Think of it? What could I think of it but that Imelda could not do better. I must compliment you on having a friend whom I consider a gentleman in every respect.”