"Assuredly--not."

"Well, I think it's a roaring shame to write anything to a fellow
that he can't be allowed to read. I wouldn't treat you that way."

"I know you wouldn't. You are too good, and too sensible, and too
considerate, and all the other kind of too's, while I am just an
unaccountable ninny. If you ever did anything crazy you wouldn't
like to have it found out, would you?"

"By all means! Then I could take treatment for the malady. Lean
forward, Dorothy, so that I can see your eyes. That's right! Now,
look at me squarely. Will you tell me what was in that letter?" She
returned his gaze steadily, almost mockingly.

"No."

"That's all I want to know. I can always tell by a girl's eyes
whether she is stubborn."

"I am not stubborn."

"Well, I'll drop the matter for all time. Doubtless you were right
when you said it was nonsense; you ought to know. Changing the
subject, I think I'll like Brussels if I stay here long enough." He
was again nonchalant, indifferent. Under her mask of unconcern she
felt a trifle piqued that he did not persist in his endeavor to
learn the contents of the unfortunate letter.

"How long do you expect--I mean purpose to stay?" she asked.