“Why are you so anxious to know?” he demanded, raising her hand to his lips.
“It’s feminine curiosity, I suppose,” she said, smiling.
“Well, then, I assure you it was only an absurd notion that somehow took possession of me.”
“An absurd notion,” she echoed absently. “Why, of course it is! How could I have known your brother when I have been so little in England?”
“You might have met him in society.”
“No; believe me, to my knowledge I have never seen him. If I had, what difference could it make?”
“If you entertained any affection for him—”
“What nonsense you are talking to-day, Hugh,” she interrupted, with a little derisive laugh. “I really believe you are jealous.”
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted; “but, you see, I love so well that any such shortcoming you really must excuse.”
He laughed inwardly at the glibness of his invention.