"After all, that's just love, is n't it? There can't be any halfway about it, can there?"
"I wonder."
"You—you wonder, Mr. Covington?"
He was stupid at first. He did not get the connection. Then, as she turned her dark eyes full upon him, the blood leaped to his cheeks. He was married—that was what she was trying to tell him. He had a wife, and so presumably knew what love was. For her to assume anything else, for him to admit anything else, was impossible.
"Perhaps we'd better turn back," she said uneasily.
He felt like a cad. He turned instantly.
"I 'm afraid I did n't make myself very clear," he faltered. "We are n't all of us like Peter."
"There is no one in the world quite as good as Peter," the girl declared.
"Then you should n't blame me too much," he suggested.
"It is not for me to criticize you at all," she returned somewhat stiffly.