"I'm worrying," confessed the child.
"What about, little one?"
"I'm not sure if I ought to have spoken to you, or have come with you, after all."
To save his life, Hugh could not have helped laughing, though it was evidently a matter of serious importance. "What, do you think we ought to have a chaperon?" he asked. "Paul's in the tonneau, you know; and he's a most discreet chap."
"I don't know what a chaperon is," said Rosemary. "But will you promise not to be angry if I ask you something, and will you promise to answer, honour bright?"
"Yes, to both your questions."
"Were you really unkind to Angel, before you were lost?"
This was a hard nut to crack, if his past were not to be ruthlessly severed from Angel's by a word. He thought for a moment, and then said, "Honour bright, I can't remember anything unkind I ever did to her."
"Oh, I'm so glad. I was afraid, when you said you'd forgotten—but maybe her name wasn't Angel, then?"
"That was it, I'm sure," replied Hugh, soothingly. "Maybe you named her Angel, yourself?"