I was at a loss to know whether this were coquetry or innocence.
“Because I saw you on the levee,” said Nick.
“You saw me on the levee?” she repeated, giving back.
“And I had a great fear,” the rogue persisted.
“A fear of what?”
“A fear that you were married,” he said, with a boldness that made me blush. As for Mademoiselle, a color that vied with the June roses charged through her cheeks. She stooped to pick up her sewing, but Nick was before her.
“And why did you think me married?” she asked in a voice so low that we scarcely heard.
“Faith,” said Nick, “because you seemed to be quarrelling with a man.”
She turned to him with an irresistible seriousness.