“Perhaps so.”
“I didn’t know—I thought you might want Frank to beat me. What are you writing—my name?”
“Yes—and mine.”
Having written her own name beneath Dick’s, she began to strike out such letters as she could find in both names. He watched her with interest.
“Let’s see,” he said, “how it is done? You take the letters that are left, and how do you say it?”
“Love, hate, marriage; love, hate, marriage,” she explained.
“There are seven letters left in my name,” he declared. “It’s love for me, and never anything in this world came truer!”
His voice betrayed his emotion.
“There are four letters left in my name,” said Inza, her face turned from him.
“Love again!” exclaimed Dick softly. “Love for both of us! Inza—is it—can it be—true?”