"Don't be afraid to speak," he said irritably. "What are you thinking?"

"That I don't want you to kiss me--and that I do want father to be
happy."

Was this guile? Was it innocence? He put his arms round her. "Look at
me," he said.

She gazed at him frankly.

"You like me?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you want me to kiss you?"

"I don't know. It makes me--dislike you."

He released her. She laid her hand on his arm eagerly. "Please--" she
implored. "I don't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't offend you for anything.
Only--when you ask me a question--mustn't I tell you the truth?"

"Always," he said, believing in her, in spite of the warnings of cynical
worldliness. "I don't know whether you are sincere or not--as yet. So
for the present I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." He stood back
and looked at her from head to foot. "You are beautiful!--perfect," he
said in a low voice. He laughed. "I'll resist the temptation to kiss you
again. I must go now. About your father--I'll see what can be done."