He waited for a few seconds; then spoke, still kindly, but with a force that in a measure compelled her:
"That is why I want you to tell me his name."
She turned her face aside.
"I—I can't!" she said piteously.
"Then I hold you to your engagement," said Lester Cheveril, with quiet determination.
Her hands leapt in his. She threw him a quick uncertain glance.
"You can't mean that!" she said.
"I do mean it," he rejoined resolutely.
"But—but—" she faltered. "You don't really want to marry me? You can't!"
He looked grimly at her for a moment. Then abruptly he broke into a laugh that rang and echoed exultantly in the deep shadows behind them.