He looked at her curiously for some moments and then said, “Why do you call me Mr. Perseus?”
Olive gave him one horrified glance and then blushed scarlet.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she stammered in great confusion. “I did not know I said so. I really am most sorry.”
“But why that name?” he persisted, still looking at her blushing face.
“I may as well tell you the truth,” she said still much confused. “The fact is I forgot what you said your name was, and my husband suggested in a joke that I should call you Perseus, because—because——”
“I rescued you in distress,” said he as he broke into a deep musical laugh. “It is a capital name, I am delighted with it.”
“I am so ashamed of myself,” said Olive, also laughing, “but I was in the habit of speaking of you as Mr. Perseus, and the name slipped off my tongue unawares. What is your real name? Pray tell me.”
“Not for worlds, dear Mrs. Weston. To you I shall remain Mr. Perseus, and I shall never think of the name without a thrill of pleasure.”
“But this is most unfair,” said Olive. “You know my name and who I am and all about me, and yet I am to be kept in the dark as to your identity.”
“Forgive my not doing at once what you wish, but really I cannot. This will be a sweet little innocent romance to me, and before you I shall appear in my very best light, leaving all the vices and evils of my real nature behind me for the time. Ah no! don’t deprive me of such a harmless joy. If you knew what a lonely uncared for life is mine, your tender heart would be touched.”