“Bored?” I laughed. “Why, one has not a moment in which to be bored. This is the first half-hour of repose I’ve had since I arrived here.”
She looked at me strangely, and, with a curious smile, said—
“Because you are always so taken up with Beryl.”
“With Beryl!” I echoed, starting quickly. “I really did not know that—” I hastened to protest.
“Ah, no,” she laughed, “To excuse yourself is useless. The truth is quite patent to me if not to the others.”
“The truth of what?” I inquired, with affected ignorance.
“The truth that you love her.”
I laughed aloud, scouting the idea. I did not intend to show my hand, for I was never certain of her tactics.
“My dear Doctor,” she said presently, “you may deny it, if you like, but I have my eyes open, and I know that in your heart you love her.”
“Then you know my feelings better than myself,” I responded, inwardly angry that I should have acted in such a manner as to cause her to notice my infatuation.