"There is no one here." Gerald looked at the curtains dividing one room from the other. "I suppose Mrs. Berch is not again lying down with a headache."
"No. She is out shopping, and will be in soon. And you needn't look so cross. Neither mother nor I told Major Rebb about your weird love affair. Mother overheard, as she said, but held her tongue."
"Madge----"
"Don't, I tell you. Major Rebb may come in at any moment, and I am also expecting Signor Venosta to afternoon tea. What would either of them say, if they heard you address me so familiarly."
Gerald shrugged his shoulders, and did not argue the point. "As you please, Mrs. Crosbie. I was merely taking the privilege of our age-long acquaintanceship."
"Why not friendship?" she inquired, closing her eyes.
"Friendship, then. When are you to be married?"
"I can't say! Michael--that is Major Rebb, you know--has not settled anything yet. He's very much upset, poor man, over this crazy girl."
"I don't believe that the girl is crazy!" said Gerald decisively.
"So you said before! Major Rebb told me of his interview with you at that Denleigh inn, and how absurd you were. Now I suppose you will admit that you have had a lucky escape?"