Philip did not remark the little falter in her voice.
"How do you know that I adored her?"
"Did you not?" was her quick counter question.
"Well, then—yes."
"And were distracted with misery when she married Mr. Waldershare?"
"So they said," and as he spoke he knocked the ash off his cheroot with elaborate care.
"You have forgiven her"—and Angel caught her breath; "you forgave her to-night?"
"I forgave her ten years ago; but, my dear child, do not let us rake up the ashes of an old love affair that has been extinct for ages. I am quite prepared to be civil to Lola, as an old playfellow and friend, that's all. You will have to call on her, and ask her to dinner, and all that sort of thing."
Angel came to a sudden dead stop, and stood very straight in her long silvery cloak; her face was white as she gazed at her husband in the moonlight, with her extraordinarily piercing blue eyes.
"Playfellow—friend," she repeated, "do you believe that she will ever forget, or allow you to forget, that you were her old lover, her first love—she won't," she added with sudden passion. "She reminded me of it to-night, and declared that it was a bond between us."