Her grave simplicity was more seductive to him than the most coquettish wiles would have been. She was so entirely at sea in the art of love-making that her very ignorance provoked a more explicit declaration. "Are there only sisters in the world?" he asked passionately, yet angry with himself for skirting so near to the edge of peril.
"No: there are mothers," said Leam.
Edgar caught his breath, but again checked himself just in time to prevent the words "and wives," that rose to his lips. "And friends," he substituted, with evident constraint and as awkwardly as before. It was not often that a woman had been able to disconcert Edgar Harrowby so strangely as did this ignorant and innocent half-breed Spanish girl.
"And friends," repeated Leam. "But they are not much."
"Alick Corfield? He is my good friend," she answered quietly.
"Yes, I know how much you like him." An understanding ear would have caught the sneering undertone in these words.
"Yes, I like him," responded Leam with unmoved gravity.
"And you are sorry that he is ill—very sorry, awfully sorry?"
"I am sorry."
"Would you be as pained if I were ill? and would you come every day to the Hill to ask after me, as you go to Steel's Corner to ask after him?"