"Is it?" Fanny smiled. "Perhaps it is," she added, after a pause. "I'd like to tell you something—"
She hesitated and stopped. Lawrence looked at her, but did not speak, expecting her to go on. The silence continued for some time. Once or twice Fanny turned and met his eyes, and her lips moved as though she were just going to say something. She seemed to be in doubt.
"I don't believe in friendship, and I don't believe in promises,—and I don't believe much in anything," she said, at last, in magnificent generalization. "But I'd like to tell you, all the same. Do you mind?"
"I won't repeat it if you do," said Lawrence, simply.
"No—I don't believe you will. You see I haven't any friends, so I never tell things,—at least, not much. I don't believe much in telling, anyway. Do you?"
"Not if you mean to keep a secret."
"Oh—well—this isn't exactly a secret—only I don't want any one to know it. Yes, I know! You laugh because I'm going to tell you. But you're different, somehow—"
