"And now, Tita, now!—are you happy now?" asks he.
His tone is almost violent. The pressure of his hand on hers grows hurtful. Involuntarily she gives a little cry.
"Nonsense! Of course I am happy!" says she petulantly, pulling her hand out of his. "How rough you are, Tom!"
"Did I hurt you?" exclaims he passionately. "Tita, forgive me. To hurt you——"
"There, don't be a fool!" says Tita, laughing. "My fingers are not broken, if that's what you mean. But you certainly _are _rough: and, after all"—mischievously—"I don't think I shall tell you that secret now."
"You must. I shan't sleep if I don't know it. You said I knew the heroine of it."
"Yes, you do indeed," laughing.
"And that I was always calling her names?"
"True; and I can't bear that, because"—gently—"I love her." She pauses, and goes on again very earnestly: "I love her with all my heart."
"I envy her," says Hescott. "I'm glad this mysterious stranger is a she."