Hora stood in a thoughtful attitude.
"Myra—Myrrha," he half-mused, turning the name about, "a good name for a love-potion, there's a foreshadowing of the bitterness of love in it."
Her brow clouded and she turned away. "You are always mocking me," she muttered.
"No," he said, and he stepped across the room to her side. There was something strange about his walk. He passed across the room with the swift, stealthy swing of a panther—a wounded panther, for one foot dragged after the other and robbed his progress of complete grace. He came to her side and laid his hand on her arm.
"I am not mocking, Myra," he said seriously. "I have long wanted to know exactly where Guy was placed in your thoughts. You have never revealed yourself until to-night. Even now I am not quite sure——"
Myra's countenance cleared and a happy smile shone on her face. She looked up at him expectantly.
"You can tell me how much you care for him," he continued. "I shall not reveal your confidence to Guy."
She dropped her eyes.
"I cannot tell anyone," she whispered with a strange shyness.
Hora smiled whimsically. "What liars love makes of us all," he said. "Yet perhaps you are speaking truthfully. You cannot tell me what you do not know."