fluttering off on some pressing and suddenly remembered errand. Yet this
reserve hardly seemed like the shyness of conscious but unacknowledged
love. On the contrary, we both fancied--Koenigin and I--that Kitty began to
look worried, and somehow, in watching her and the Jook, we began to be
conscious that a sort of constraint had crept into her manner toward him.
It could be no doubt of his feelings that caused it, for no woman could
desire a bolder or more ardent lover than he had developed into, infected,
no doubt, by the American atmosphere. Sometimes, too, we caught shy,
wistful glances at the Jook from Kitty's eyes, hastily averted with an
almost guilty look if he turned toward her.

"What can it mean, Koenigin?" I said. "She looks as if she wanted to confess
some sin, and was afraid to."

"Some childish peccadillo," said Koenigin. "In spite of all her
woman-of-the-world-ishness the child has a morbidly sensitive conscience,
and is troubled about some nonsense that nobody else would think of twice."

"Can it be that she has only been flirting, and is frightened to find how
desperately in earnest he is?"

"Possibly," replied Koenigin. "But I fancy that she is too well used to that
phase of affairs to let it worry her. Wait a while and we shall see."

We couldn't make anything of it, but even the Jook became worried at last
by Kitty's queer behavior, and I suppose he thought he had better settle
the matter. For one evening, when I was keeping my room with a headache, I
was awakened from a light sleep by a sound of voices on the piazza outside
of my window. It was some time before I was sufficiently wide awake to
realize that the speakers were Kitty and the Jook, and when I did I was in
a dilemma. To let them know that I was there would be to overwhelm them
both with confusion and interrupt their conversation at a most interesting
point, for the Jook had evidently just made his declaration. It was
impossible for me to leave the room, for I was by no means in a costume to
make my appearance in the public halls. On the whole, I concluded that the
best thing I could do would be to keep still and never, by word or look, to
let either of them know of my most involuntary eavesdropping.

Kitty was speaking when I heard them first, talking in a broken, hesitating
voice, which was very queer from our bright, fluent little Kitty: "Mr.
Warriner, you don't know what a humbug you make me feel when you talk of
'my innocence' an