mistrusting the tokens she had shown and taking her coquetry at its
worldly value; would have kissed and perhaps forgotten the next
morning. But as she looked in Markham's eyes she saw with dismay that
he still read her heart correctly and that the pact of truthfulness
which neither of them had broken was considered a pact between them
still. Her gaze fell before his and she turned away, sure now that
for the sake of her pride she must deceive him.

"No, I can teach you nothing, it seems, except, perhaps, that you
should not make the arms of your lady black and blue. Love is a
zephyr, _mon ami_, not a tornado."

He stared at her, bewildered by the sudden transformation.

"I--I kissed you," he said stupidly. "You wanted me to."

"Did I?" she taunted him. "Who knows? If I did"--examining her
wrist--"I have now every reason to regret it."

He stood peering down at her from his great height, his thoughts
tumbling into words.

"Don't lie to me, Olga. You were not content with friendship. No
woman ever is. You wanted me to do--what I have done."

"Perhaps," she admitted calmly, "but not the way you did it. Kissing
should be done upon the soft pedal _mon ami, adagio, con amore_. Your
technique is rusty. Is it a wonder that I am disappointed?"

She was mocking him again, but this time he was not deceived.