“Yes, dear.”
“That is remarkable. Neither Christopher nor Annabel gave you the smallest hint? They knew.”
“Not the smallest.” The hurt of their keeping the secret from me must have shown in my face, for Beela laughed teasingly. It restored me. “You pledged Annabel not to tell me,” I said, “and Christopher is silent,—and a gentleman. Is that the explanation?”
“Yes.” A soft embarrassment crept over her, and she gently withdrew her hands and sat regarding me in sweet content. “I also have a confession to make, Joseph.” She tried hard to look just a trifle anxious. “What, dear?”
“Joseph!” she cried, frowning and stamping; “how can I think when that is in your eyes and your voice! I won’t look, and I won’t listen.” She turned her shoulder to me.
“What is in my eyes and my voice, dear?”
She sat still a moment, and then slowly turned her head a trifle and peered at me as if baffled.
“You mustn’t tease me, Joseph.”
She saw my smile and again turned away.
“What is the confession?” I asked.