"Aren't you going to kiss me?" she asked.
"Helen, why didn't you write me you had broken our engagement?" he counter-queried.
The question disconcerted her somewhat. Drawing back from close contact with him she took hold of his sleeves, and assumed a naive air of groping in memory. She used her eyes in a way that Lane could not associate with the past he knew. She was a flirt—not above trying her arts on the man she had jilted.
"Why, didn't I write you? Of course I did."
"Well, if you did I never got the letter. And if you were on the level you'd admit you never wrote."
"How'd you find out then?" she inquired curiously.
"I never knew for sure until your mother verified it."
"Are you curious to know why I did break it off?"
"Not in the least."
This reply shot the fire into her face
