"
"I don't dislike compliments, Mr. Harleston; but compliments, it seems,
are given in diplomacy for a purpose; and as I don't understand anything
of diplomacy we would better cut them out--until we have finished with
diplomacy. Then you may offer as many as you like, and I'll believe them
or not as I'm minded."
"Have it as you wish!" he smiled, looking into the brown eyes with frank
admiration.
"Compliments may be conveyed by looks as well as by words," she
reproved.
"But of the feeling that prompts the look you can be in no doubt.
Moreover, a look is silent."
"Nonsense," said she. "Besides, I want to ask you a favour. You see, I'm
prepared to go out--and I want you to go with me. Will you do it?"
"It will have to be mightily against my conscience to make me refuse
_you_," Harleston replied.
"I'm glad you recognize a conscience," she remarked.
"I refer to my diplomatic conscience."
"And a diplomatic conscience is a minus quantity," she observed.
"What is it you would of me, dear lady?" he asked.
"I would that you should go with me to the French Ambassador, and help
me to explain the--now don't say you won't, Mr. Harleston--"
"My dear Mrs. Clephane, it is--" he began.
"It is _not_ impossible!" she declared.
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