"Never, I must honestly admit. Do you—and here I ask a plain question—love Lindsay? He is handsome, he is fascinating, and madly in love—all this I am sane enough to see."
"You don't see much beyond your own nose in these matters," was Angel's unexpected rejoinder.
"At any rate, I won't see my name disgraced," he answered roughly.
"It is my name—as much as yours," she retorted haughtily. "What are you driving at?"
"Lindsay—is he—no, I can't say it!"
"I should hope not. My fancy flies with yours, you see. I am sorry you are so much annoyed."
"Annoyed!" he repeated.
"Then the expression is inadequate; I conclude—that words fail you. You wish to ask me if Alan Lindsay is my lover? Is that what you desire to express?"
He nodded his head.
"He was out in camp with me for two months."