There was a mute suggestion of scorn in this very surrender to
physical coercion, a poise that asserted an utter freedom of spirit--a
freedom of which he could not rob her.
"You don't expect an answer to that question, do you?" she returned.
"Is it young Brabazon--Tony Brabazon?" he pursued, ignoring her reply and
speaking with an odd kind of eagerness.
Ann was silent. The instinct of her sex was working in her--the instinct to
conceal her real hurt, to throw dust in the eyes of the man who was seeking
to tear her secret from her. So she remained silent, and the sudden gleam
in Brett's eyes showed that he believed he was answered.
"Then you have thought of marrying--Tony Brabazon?" he said searchingly.
"Perhaps I have," she admitted, reflecting with a brief flash of humour
that, in this particular instance, the simple truth was quite the most
misleading thing imaginable.
Brett regarded her with a peculiar expression in which resentment and a
certain need of indulgence were strangely mingled.
"And you've thought better of it?" he continued, rather as though he were
stating a fact of which he had some intrinsic knowledge. Ann felt a trifle
puzzled. He and Tony were only card-room acquaintances, and it seemed
unlikely that the latter would have confided in him.
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