“Because I was waiting for you.”
“You have never told her that you loved her?”
“No. But, dear Beela, I can’t discuss Annabel in this way.”
Her eyes blazed. “She loves you!”
“That is not true; and no one has the right to say such a thing of a woman without knowing that her love is returned.”
Beela bit her lip, and came stiffly to her feet.
“You are unkind!” she exclaimed. “I have a right—a woman’s right—to reasons for believing what is incredible without them.”
The picture of outraged dignity that she made was so ravishing that I feared my adoration would override the sternness which I had taken so much trouble to set in my face.
“What is incredible, dear?”
She impatiently turned away. I think she did it to hide a smile, but she was too wary to answer. Instead, she drew from her bosom the little toilet case I had given Lentala on the day of the feast, and gravely examined her reflection.