"I suppose she was."
"Oh, well, that's all—keep the rest to yourself. As I should do, in a similar case."
"As you would? How do you mean, Teresa—in my place, you mean?"
"No, I mean in my place."
With her elbows leaning on the table and her chin in her palms, she smiled at him slightly. Basil studied her delicate, subtle face. It struck him suddenly that there was a new force about it. It might only the poise of recovered health and energy—but it seemed more. She looked somehow surer, more experienced, with more reserve. There was a suggestion of malice in her look. He considered her profoundly.
"I don't know what you mean, you little devil," he said caressingly, "but I know you're more charming than ever. It's about time you came back."
"Yes, said Teresa softly. "It was time—if I meant to come back. And, on the whole, I did."
"What do you mean? There's something in your mind—there's something you haven't told me."
"Is there? Is it possible?"
"Now come, Teresa! Don't grill a fellow, and on a night like this—and the first minute you get back, too! You don't hate me, do you? I'm so confoundedly happy to get you back—I've never been so happy in my life."
