She tossed aside the trivial suggestion with an impatient motion of her head. “I never sleep after playing a programme,” she said. Then she added in a low, appealing voice, her eyes fixed on his: “I want you to give up that idea, Hughie. Do you know what wonderful playmates we are—simply made for each other?”
Hugh began to feel uncomfortable under the clinging look. “Yes, but life isn’t play,” he returned.
“It would be for us—together. Come to me, Hughie. You would shrivel up, here. Let us go away. I will make you happier than you ever dreamed of being. I love you every second of every minute, and every minute of every hour. I—”
“Ally, Ally,” interrupted Hugh gently, “you’re mistaken. Love begets love, and if you loved me I should love you. I don’t, and—”
“Stop”—she seized his hand—“I’ll show you what love is. I will show you what happiness is. I will take care of the practical side. I have some money that no one knows of: enough to start you in business. We will work together, play together—I can’t live without you, Hughie, I can’t—”
“Adèle!” It was Miss Frink’s voice. In the silk negligée she was standing behind them inside the door.
Adèle sprang to her feet, the brown eyes flashing their fire directly into Hugh’s as he rose.
“Speak, Hugh,” she said, excitedly, “before she has a chance to talk. You know what I have said, and I mean every word.”
“No, you don’t. Now, let us forget it, Ally.”