"Yes, George, I am quite certain of it."
They had now come again into a more lively street and reluctantly let go of each other's arms.
They remained standing in front of various shops. They discovered a photographer's show-case by a house-door and were very much amused by the laboriously-natural poses in which golden and silver wedding couples, cadets, cooks in their Sunday best and ladies in masked fancy dress were taken.
George asked again in a lighter tone: "So it was Stanzides?"
"What an idea! I have never spoken a hundred words to him in my life."
They went on walking.
"Leo Golowski, then?" asked George.
She shook her head and smiled. "That was calf-love," she replied. "That really doesn't count. I should like to know the girl of sixteen who wouldn't have fallen in love in the country with a handsome youth who fights a duel with a real Count and then goes about for eight days with his arm in a sling."
"But he didn't do it on your account, but for his sister's honour, as it were."
"For Therese's honour? What makes you think that?"