“Also I know better than to risk my peace of mind.”
“Don’t lie to me, my dear,” she said softly. “There’s some one else.”
He made no reply.
“You see, you don’t deny it.” Had he denied it, she would have said: “Of course you’d deny it!” the methods of feminine detective logic being so devised.
“No; I don’t deny it.”
“But you don’t want to talk about her.”
“No.”
“It’s as bad as that?” she commiserated gently. “Poor Ban! But you’re young. You’ll get over it.” Her brooding eyes suddenly widened. “Or perhaps you won’t,” she amended with deeper perceptiveness. “Have you been trying me as an anodyne?” she demanded sternly.
Banneker had the grace to blush. Instantly she rippled into laughter.
“I’ve never seen you at a loss before. You look as sheepish as a stage-door Johnnie when his inamorata gets into the other fellow’s car. Ban, you never hung about stage-doors, did you? I think it would be good for you; tame your proud spirit and all that. Why don’t you write one of your ‘Eban’ sketches on John H. Stage-Door?”