"
"Then I must be lying abominably. Is that so very like me?"
"I have heard you do it before--once--twice--magnificently."
"When?"
"About this time nine years ago."
He remembered. The wonder was that she should have remembered too.
"I daresay. But what possible motive could I have for lying now?"
He had scored heavily this time. Far too heavily. There was a flame in
Lucia's face which did not come from the glow of the fire, a flame
that ran over her neck and forehead to the fine tips of her ears. For
she thought, supposing all the time he had been telling her the simple
truth? Why should she have raised that question? Why should she have
taken for granted that any personal interest should have led him to
do this thing? And in wondering she was ashamed. He saw her confusion,
and attributed it to another cause.
"I'm only asking you to keep the two things distinct, as I do--as I
must do," he said gently.
"I'll think about it, and let you know to-morrow."
"But I'm going to-night."
"Oh no, I can't let you do that. You must stay over the night. Your
room is ready for you."
He protested; she insisted; and in the end she had her way, as he
meant to have his way to-morrow.
He stayed, and all that evening they were very kind to him. Kitty
talked gaily throughout dinner; and afterwards Lucia played to him
while he rested, propped up with great cushions (she had insisted on
the cushions) in her chair.
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