question. She blushed all over--a horrible, unequivocal, burning
blush. She hated herself for blushing--and hated him for making her.

"Upon my word!" she stammered. It was all she could get out.

He did not triumph over her discomfiture; his eyes were cast down, and
his hand trembled. Colina could not tell whether he were more bold or
simple. She had a sinking fear that here was a young man capable of
setting all her maxims on men at naught. She didn't know what to do
with him.

"What do you know about me?" she demanded.

It sounded feeble in her own ears. She felt that whatever she might
say he was marching steadily over her defenses. Somehow, everything
that he said made them more intimate.

"There was a fellow from here came by our place," said Ambrose simply.
"Poly Goussard. He told us about you--"

"Talked about me!" cried Colina stormily.

"You should have heard what he said," said Ambrose with his
venturesome, diffident smile. "He thinks you are the most beautiful
woman in the world!" Ambrose's eyes added that he agreed with Poly.

It was impossible for Colina to be angry at this, though she wished to
be. She maintained a haughty silence.

Ambrose faltered a little.