"Aren't you shy! A regular bride-to-be, I declare." "Stop!" he said,
coloring once again.
It dawned upon me that he was probably chaste, and, searching his
face with a mocking look, I said: "I bet you you are still innocent."
"Leave me alone, please," he retorted, softly
"I have hit it, then," I importuned him, with a great sense of my
own superiority.
"Do let me alone, will you?"
"I just want you to tell me whether you are innocent or not."
"It's none of your business."
"Of course you are."
"And if I am? Is it a disgrace?" "Who says it is?"
I desisted. He became more attractive than ever to me
Nevertheless, I made repeated attempts to deprave him. His
chastity bothered me. The idea of breaking it down became an
irresistible temptation. I would ridicule him for a sissy, appeal to
him in the name of his health, beg him as one does for a personal
favor, all in vain
He spoke better English than I, with more ease, and in that pretty
basso of his which I envied. He had never read Dickens or any
other English author, but he was familiar with some subjects to
which I was a stranger.
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