“Michael Fane,” she murmured. “What does ‘ex libris’ mean?” Yet even as she asked the question her concentration failed, and she seemed not to hear his answer.
“You didn’t really want to know, you funny girl,” said Michael.
“Know what?” she echoed, blinking round at him over her shoulder as they walked on.
“The meaning of ‘ex libris.’”
“But I found out your name,” she challenged. “And you don’t know mine.”
“What is it?” Michael dutifully asked.
“I don’t think I’ll tell you.”
“Ah, do.”
“Well, then, it’s Lily—and I’ve got a sister called Doris.”
“How old are you?”