“Liane,” he said, bending and looking straight into her large, clear eyes, “I have wanted to speak seriously to you during these past few weeks, but have always hesitated.”
“Why, father?”
“Because—well, I knew you were happy, and did not wish to cause you pain,” he answered.
“Pain? What do you mean?” she inquired quickly.
“You have been very happy here in Nice, haven’t you? I mean that Zertho has made life very pleasant for us both,” he stammered.
“Certainly. Thanks to him, we’ve been extremely gay the whole time. So different to our last experience of the Riviera,” and she laughed lightly at the recollection of those well-remembered evil days.
“You appear to find Zertho a very congenial companion,” he observed.
She started. Surely her father could not know what had taken place between them during that walk by the moonlit sea on the previous night?
“Of course,” she answered hesitatingly. “He was always a good friend to poor Nelly and myself, and he is very amusing.”
“But I have noticed of late that your face betrays your happiness when you walk with him. A woman always shows in her cheeks a distinct consciousness of her success.”