"Del, I can promise nothing."
"You—you would do foolish things again?"
"Yes."
"But, why—oh, Lynn, why?"
It was some moments before Lynn answered and, when she did, her voice was hard.
"Because all my happiness on earth—everything in life that counts—depends on my outraging certain very sensible conventions. Don't worry if you can help it: I'm a fly, caught in the web of Fate: you can't help me, I can't help myself. If I—stopped, I should never forgive myself: I should never know another happy moment."
"Lynn, I see I shall have to tell you—and it's a thing I hate to do. There are stories afloat concerning you—I don't know what, exactly—coupling your name with that of Ricossia."
Lynn grew slowly white.
"Have you nothing to say, Lynn?"
"Nothing, Del."