She was so entirely charming in her confusion that I was now prompted, as much by the desire to prolong the situation as by my original curiosity, to importune her further.
"Am I never to know?
Will you never tell me ?" I said.
"It depends," she answered, after a long pause.
"On what ?" I persisted.
"Ah, you ask too much," she replied.

Then, raising to mine a face which inscrutable eyes, flushed cheeks, and smiling lips combined to render perfectly bewitching, she added, "What should you think if I said that it depended on--yourself ?" "On myself ?" I echoed.

"How can that possibly be ?" "Mr.West, we are losing some charming music," was her only reply to this, and turning to the telephone, at a touch of her finger she set the air to swaying to the rhythm of an adagio.

After that she took good care that the music should leave no opportunity for conversation.

She kept her face averted from me, and pretended to be absorbed in the airs, but that it was a mere pretense the crimson tide standing at flood in her cheeks sufficiently betrayed.
When at length she suggested that I might have heard all I cared to, for that time, and we rose to leave the room, she came straight up to me and said, without raising her eyes, "Mr.West, you say I have been good to you.