She turned on him in a sudden flash of indignation. "Why have you such power over me?" she demanded.
"What power over you, Opal!"
"What's the use of dodging the truth, you professor of honesty? You make me do things we both know I'll be sorry for all the rest of my life. Why do you do it?"
Her eyes blazed with a real anger that made her piquante face more alluring than ever to the eyes of the infatuated Boy who watched her. He was fighting desperately for self-control, but if she should look at him as she had looked sometimes—!
"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew I was capable of being foolish—wicked, perhaps—for a grande passion. I could forgive myself that, I think! But for a mere caprice—a penchant like this! Oh, Paul! what can you think of me?"
His voice was hoarse—heavy with emotion.
"Think of you, Opal? I am sure you must know what I think. I've never had an opportunity to tell you—in so many words—but you must have seen what I have certainly taken no pains to conceal. Shall I try to tell you, Opal?"
"No, no! I don't want to hear a word—not a word! Do you understand? I forbid you!"
Paul bowed deferentially. She laughed nervously at the humility in his obeisance.
"Don't be ridiculous!" she commanded. "This is growing too melodramatic, and I hate a scene. But, really, Paul, you mustn't—simply mustn't! There are reasons—conditions—and—you must not tell me, and I must not, will not listen!"