Cliffe's mouth still smiled, but his eyes studied her with a veiled and
sinister intensity.
"I have not seen the lady for a week," he resumed. "She pesters me with
notes. I promised to go and see her in a new play to-morrow night,
but--"
"Oh, go!" said Kitty--"by all means go!"
"'Ruy Blas' in Italian? I think not. Ah! did you see that gleam on the
Campanile?--marvellous!... Miladi, I have a question to ask you."
"
Dites!" said Kitty.
"Did you put me into your book?"
"Certainly."
"What kind of things did you say?"
"The worst I could!"
"Ah! How shall I get a copy?" said Cliffe, musing.
She made no answer, but she was conscious of a sudden movement--was it
of terror? At the bottom of her soul was she, indeed, afraid of the man
beside her?
"By-the-way," he resumed, "you promised to tell me your news of this
morning. But you haven't told me a word!"
She turned away. She had gathered her furs around her, and her face was
almost hidden by them.
"Nothing is settled," she said, in a cold, reluctant voice.
"Which means that you won't tell me anything more?"
She was silent. Her lip had a proud line which piqued him.
Pages:
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589