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Rather than let it continue, she impulsively
confessed the uppermost idea in her mind when she entered the room.
"I thought I heard my name when I came in," she said. "Were you and Lord
Loring speaking of me?"
Romayne owned without hesitation that they had been speaking of her.
She smiled and turned over another photograph. But when did sun-pictures
ever act as a restraint on a woman's curiosity? The words passed her
lips in spite of her. "I suppose I mustn't ask what you were saying?"
It was impossible to answer this plainly without entering into
explanations from which Romayne shrank. He hesitated.
She turned over another photograph. "I understand," she said. "You were
talking of my faults." She paused, and stole another look at him. "I
will try to correct my faults, if you will tell me what they are."
Romayne felt that he had no alternative but to tell the truth--under
certain reserves. "Indeed you are wrong," he said. "We were talking of
the influence of a tone or a look on a sensitive person."
"The influence on Me?" she asked.


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