"I will not allow it."
"Well, there then, don't bite," said the Boy; "and I won't tell you against your will that she thinks a great deal about you"—this presto, in order to get it out before the Tenor could stop him. "But I will tell you on my own account that I don't know the woman who wouldn't."
A vivid flush suffused the Tenor's face, and he turned away.
"I hope you never say things like that to your sister," he objected, after a time.
The Boy grinned. "Sometimes I do," he said, "only they're generally more so."
There was a long silence after this, during which the Tenor changed his attitude repeatedly. He was much disturbed, and he showed it. The Boy made a great pretence of sipping his wine, but he had not in reality taken much of it. He was watching the Tenor, and it was curious how much older he looked while so engaged. The Tenor must have noticed the change in him, which was quite remarkable, giving him an entirely different character, but for his own preoccupation. As it was, however, he noticed nothing.
"Boy," he began at last, in a low voice and hesitating, "I want you to promise me something." The Boy leant forward all attention. "I want you to promise that you will not say anything like that—anything at all about me to—"
"To Angelica?" The Boy seemed to think. "I will promise," he slowly decided, "if you will promise me one thing in return."
"What is it?"
"Will you promise to tell me everything you think about her."