"Nothing. I was thinking out loud."
"Do you habitually think in Latin?"
"No. It was just a trick of dad's. I wish you could have heard him swear in Latin."
Don's eyes began to sparkle again. "No doubt I should have found the experience of great educational value," he said; "but did he often swear in Latin?"
"Not often; only when he was very drunk."
"What was his favourite tongue when he was merely moderately so?"
Flamby's expression underwent a faint change, and looking down she bit her under-lip. Instantly Don saw that he had wounded her, and he cursed the clumsiness, of which Paul could never have been guilty, that had led him to touch this girl's acute sensibilities. She was bewildering, of course, and he realised that he must step warily in future. He reached across and grasped her other hand hard. "Please forgive me," he said. "No man had better reason for loving your father than I."
Flamby looked up at him doubtfully, read sincerity in the grey eyes, and smiled again at once. "He wouldn't have minded a bit," she explained, "but I'm only a woman after all, and women are daft."
"I cannot allow you to be a woman yet, Flamby. You are only a girl, and I want you to think of me——"
Flamby's pretty lips assumed a mischievous curve and a tiny dimple appeared in her cheek. "Don't say as a big brother," she cried, "or you will make me feel like a penny novelette!"