"
"You're an original sort of girl," said Waymark, throwing away the
end of his cigar. "Do you talk to everybody in this way?"
"Pooh, of course not. I shouldn't be worth much if I couldn't suit
my conversation to the man I want to make a fool of. Would you
rather have me talk in the usual way? Shall I say--"
"I had rather not."
"Well, I knew that."
"And how?"
"Well, _you_ don't wear a veil, if I do."
"You can read faces?"
"A little, I flatter myself. Can you?"
"Give me a chance of trying."
She raised her veil, and he inspected her for some moments, then
looked away.
"Excellently well, if God did all," he observed, with a smile.
"That's out of a play," she replied quickly. "I heard it a little
time ago, but I forget the answer. I'd have given anything to be
able to cap you! Then you'd have put me down for a clever woman, and
I should have lived on the reputation henceforth and for ever. But
it's all my own, indeed; I'm not afraid of crying."
"_Do_ you ever cry? I can't easily imagine it."
"Oh yes, sometimes," she answered, sighing, and at the same time
lowering her veil again. "But you haven't read my face for me."
"It's a face I'm sorry to have seen.
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