"It is not worth the trouble."
"Well, then, try the obvious. That won't be much trouble."
"You wish to know the latest news of Gareth, you mean, to take to the Duke."
"That's not the obvious, Christabel; that's only an ingeniously wrong one. I'm afraid I've disappointed you a little."
"In coming away from the Duke so—soon?"
"Not a bit of it. In not letting you tease me just now. I ought to have taken you seriously and fired up, and all the rest of it. But I didn't. I didn't misunderstand you in the least. You see—but shall I tell you why?" and he came close to me.
"You did go away with the Duke," I persisted; rather feebly, I fear.
"And who would have been the first to blame me if I had not, when he was ill and could not go alone? You see you can't plague me because, for one thing, I know you too well; and for another—I've had a chat with the General. Didn't he tell you I was—a rebel?"
"I always understood you had no sympathy with patriots," I answered, looking up innocently, but prepared for defeat and surrender.
"It won't do, Christabel," he laughed. "You're looking too innocent. The General gave you away, I mean, and you know that I mean I am a rebel against my father's latest act of tyranny."