"You don't come at all--and yet we get on so well when we meet." "Perhaps that's the reason," he answered promptly.

"I'm afraid I haven't any cream, you know--shall you mind a slice of lemon instead ?" "I shall like it better." She waited while he cut the lemon and dropped a thin disk into her cup.

"But that is not the reason," she insisted.
"The reason for what ?" "For your never coming." She leaned forward with a shade of perplexity in her charming eyes.

"I wish I knew--I wish I could make you out.

Of course I know there are men who don't like me--one can tell that at a glance.
And there are others who are afraid of me: they think I want to marry them." She smiled up at him frankly.