Only--it seems treacherous to call
them '_usual_' because--when you love a man you feel that the things he
says can never have been said before, in the same way, by any other man
to any other woman."
"Only perhaps by the same man to another woman," I mocked at her, trying
to act as if I were teasing in fun.
"Lisa, you _can_ be hateful sometimes!" she cried.
"It's only for your good, if I'm hateful now," I said. "I don't want to
have you disappointed, when it's too late. I want you to keep your eyes
open, and see exactly where you're going. It's the truest thing ever
said that 'love is blind.' You can't deny that you're in love with Ivor
Dundas."
"I don't deny it," she answered, with a proud air which would, I
suppose, have made Ivor want to kiss her.
"And you didn't deny it to him?"
"No, I didn't. But thanks to you, I put him upon a kind of probation. I
wish I hadn't, now. I wish I'd shown that I trusted him entirely. I know
he deserves to be trusted; and to-morrow I shall tell him--"
"I don't think I should commit myself any further till day after
to-morrow," said I drily. "Indeed, you couldn't if you wanted to, unless
you wrote or wired.
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