A slight tinge of red mounted to George's forehead, and a look which I should have called pain in any other person, but which in him I translated vexation, came into his eyes. He spoke at once, quite earnestly,—
"You are very, very much mistaken, Miss Romilly. I almost wish you were right."
"You know nothing about each other," said Judith quickly, "and the best thing you can both do is to become acquainted immediately."
"Miss Romilly will never become acquainted with me,—she has too great a contempt for me," said George, with a laugh from which all trace of vexation had vanished.
"Count Piloff will never know me any better,—he considers me too self-righteous," said I, resuming a careless manner.
Presently he threw down the pictures which he had been fingering, started up, and came over to my chair, looking down on me with a thoughtful smile. "You have no idea how happy I am."
"I am glad, but I fail to discover the cause," I responded, looking up at him inquiringly.
"Because," gazing at me critically, as if something about me interested him, "I am to take you out to dinner to-night, and then I shall have an opportunity of showing you—if you are open to conviction—that my feelings are deeper than you think."
"How do you know you are to take me out?"
"Alice told me so. She said that you were so sensitive as to a certain young man whose name has been mentioned once or twice lately in connection with yours,
