THE BRASS BOWL
Indeed he did—if she would permit? And forthwith Maitland's cigarette case was produced, with a flourish.
"What a beautiful case!"
In an instant it was in her hands. "Beautiful!" she iterated, inspecting the delicate tracery of the monogram engraver's art—head bended forward, face shaded by the broad-brimmed hat.
"You like it? You would care to own it?" Anisty demanded unsteadily.
"I?" The inflection of doubtful surprise was a delight to the ear. "Oh! … I couldn't think of accepting. … Besides, I have no use for it."
"Of course you ain't—are not that sort." An hour back he could have kicked himself for the grammatical blunder; now he was wholly illuded; besides, she didn't seem to notice. "But as a little token—between us"
She drew back, pushing the case across the cloth; "I couldn't dream. …"
"But if I insist?"
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