"Tell me at least about the woman," she urged.

"Is it--is it the girl you are going to marry ?" But he stood silent, looking at her again with that expression in his eyes that had puzzled her before.
"Is it, Bertie ?" she insisted.
"And if I tell you Yes ?" he said at last.
She made a queer little gesture, the merest butterfly movement, and yet it had in it the faintest suggestion of hurt surprise.
"And you never told me about her," she said.
He leaned swiftly towards her.

There was a sudden glow on his olive face that made him wonderfully handsome.

"_Mignonne_!" he said eagerly, and then as swiftly checked himself.

"Ah, no, I will not say it! You do not love the French." "But I want to hear about your _fiancee_," she protested.