"Who is this man?" he burst out at last, while she took a wicked joy in his misapprehension.
"His—his—name—is—" she spoke slowly and with seeming reluctance, as if to spare him.
"Then there is a man? Good God! I had hoped, in spite of everything, that I might have been mistaken, that you acted so for some other reason. Do you love him?"
"Yes," faintly, turning away her head.
"Do you really love him, or are you making a fool of him as you did of me?"
"But I—love you, too," she said demurely, slowly dropping her head so that her face was half hidden from his intent gaze.
"How can you love both of us?" he exclaimed, angered beyond endurance by her apparent coquetry.
"It's—it's—different," she answered demurely.
"If Lacy were here, I suppose he would understand, but women such as you are beyond me."
"It seems so."