“All sins are pleasant,” was her quick answer; “that included. But you must really leave me now. Please do.”
“When you took me to Blackheath you sent me back without satisfying my curiosity regarding your address,” I said, reproachfully. “Are you going to act to-day in the same manner? Surely I may know where I can write to you in order that we may one day enjoy another of these pleasant gossips,” I pleaded.
She shook her head. Yet I saw that my words had created an impression upon her, and furthermore that she was in no way averse to my companionship.
“Why do you send me away like this? Do you fear lest we should be seen together?”
She sighed that same sigh which had escaped her several times during our walk. Noticing her apprehension I attributed it to the fear of some jealous lover. A girl may flirt desperately, but she always hates to be thought false by the man who loves her.
If she had nothing to conceal from me, why did she not give me her true address in Cornwall Road? But she had much to hide from my knowledge, and with her honest woman’s heart it required all her nerve and ingenuity to successfully mislead me.
“No,” she faltered, at last; “we must not be seen together. You think the manner I treated you that night at Blackheath extraordinary. So it was. But it was imperative—for your sake!”
“I don’t understand you, Miss Bristowe,” I declared, quickly. “How was it for my sake?”
“Ah!” she cried, as though in distress. “Believe me, I acted for your own welfare! I can give you no further explanation.”
“But you mystify me!” I said. “My curiosity is but natural.”