She
longed to meet it, but did not wholly dare. With veiled glances she
yielded to the attraction, not yet bold enough for complete surrender.
He spoke at last, and she started.
"Well? Am I forgiven?"
The nonchalant enquiry sent the blood in another hot wave to her cheeks.
Had she ever presumed to be angry with this godlike person?
"For what?" she asked, her voice very low.
He leaned towards her. "Did I only fancy that by some evil chance I had
offended you?"
She kept her eyes lowered. "I thought you were the offended one," she
said.
"I?" She caught the note of surprise in his voice, and it sent a very
curious little sense of shame through her.
With an effort she raised her eyes. "Yes. I thought you were offended.
You went by me this morning without seeing me."
His look was very intent, almost as if he were searching for something;
but it did not disconcert her as she had half-expected to be
disconcerted. His eyes were more caressing than dominant just then.
"What if I didn't see you because I didn't dare?" he said.
That gave her confidence. "I should think you couldn't be so silly as
that," she said with decision.
He smiled a little. "Thank you, _miladi_. Then wasn't it--almost equally
silly--your word, not mine!--of you to be afraid of me last night?"
She felt the thrust in a moment, and went white, conscious of the weak
sick feeling that so often came over her at the sound of her mother's
step when she was in disgrace.
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