"You have not denied it."
She tipped back her head, linked her fingers under her chin, and looked
at him across the smooth curve of her cheeks.
"Well--yes," she admitted, "I was crying--if you insist on knowing. Now
that you have so cleverly driven me to admit that, can you also force me
to tell you _why_ I was so tearful?"
"Certainly," he said promptly; "it was something Nina said that made you
cry."
They both laughed.
"Oh, what a come-down!" she said teasingly. "You knew that before. But
can you force me to confess to you _what_ Nina was saying? If you can
you are the cleverest cross-examiner in the world, for I'd rather perish
than tell you--"
"Oh," he said instantly, "then it was something about love!"
He had not meant to say it; he had spoken too quickly, and the flush of
surprise on the girl's face was matched by the colour rising to his own
temples. And, to retrieve the situation, he spoke too quickly again--and
too lightly.
"A girl would rather perish than admit that she is in love?" he said,
forcing a laugh.
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