She was suddenly aware of a new thrill—one of satisfaction. As she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her face cleared. Instinctively she grasped the truth. Whatever he may have been yesterday, he was quite another person today,—and it was a pleasure to be seen with him!
She lengthened her stride, and held up her head. Her red lips parted in a dazzling smile.
"I suppose it is useless to ask you to change your mind,—Trotter," she said, purposely hesitating over the name.
"Quite," said he, smiling into her eyes.
She was momentarily disconcerted. She found it more difficult than she had thought to look into his eyes.
"Why do you call yourself Trotter?" she asked, after a moment.
"I haven't the remotest idea," he said. "It came to me quite unexpectedly."
"It isn't a pretty name," she observed. "Couldn't you have done better?"
"I daresay I might have called myself Marjoribanks with perfect propriety," said he. "Or Plantagenet, or Cholmondeley. But it would have been quite a waste of time, don't you think?"
"Would you mind telling me who you really are?"