"Then you think I'm not squeamish? It would have to be something very, very bad."
"Thank you. Well, I thought it very bad. Anybody would, I should fancy."
"I never did anything very, very bad, so you must be mistaken," answered Johnstone, exasperated.
Clare said nothing, but walked along with her head rather high, looking straight before her. It had all happened before her eyes, on the very ground under her feet, on that platform. Johnstone knew that he had spoken roughly.
"I say," he began, "was I rude? I'm awfully sorry." Clare stopped and stood still.
"Mr. Johnstone, we sha'n't agree. I will never tell you, and you will never be satisfied unless I do. So it's a dead-lock."
"You are horribly unjust," answered Brook, very much in earnest, and fixing his bright eyes on hers. "You seem to take a delight in tormenting me with this imaginary secret. After all, if it's something you saw me do, or heard me say, I must know of it and remember it, so there's no earthly reason why we shouldn't discuss it."
There was again that fascination in his eyes, and she felt herself yielding.
"I'll say one thing," she said. "I wish you hadn't done it!"
She felt that she could not look away from him, and that he was getting her into his power. The colour rose in her face.
"Please don't look at me!" she said suddenly, gazing helplessly into his eyes, but his steady look did not change.
"Please--oh, please look away!" she cried, half-frightened and growing pale again.
He turned from her, surprised at her manner.
"I'm afraid you're not in earnest about this, after all," he said, thoughtfully. "If you meant what you said, why shouldn't you look at me?"
"It's very rude to stare like that!" she said, in an offended tone. "You know that you've got something--I don't know what to call it--one can't look away when you look at one. Of course you know it, and you ought not to do it. It isn't nice."
"I didn't know there was anything peculiar about my eyes," said Brook. "Indeed I didn't! Nobody ever told me so, I'm sure. By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I believe it's that! I've probably done it before--and that's why you--" he stopped.
"Please don't think me so silly," answered Clare, recovering her composure. "It's nothing of the sort. As for that--that way you have of looking--I dare say I'm nervous since my illness. Besides--" she hesitated, and then smiled. "Besides, do you know? If you had looked at me a moment longer I should have told you the whole thing, and then we should both have been sorry."