“Yes,—I heard you quite distinctly.”
“As a rule, do men love two women at the same time?” she inquired, patiently.
“I have never said that he loves Obosky. It is barely possible, however, that he may not choose to resist her,—if that conveys anything to your intelligence.”
“It does and it does not,” she replied steadily. “You see, I believe in him. I trust him.”
“And I suppose you trust Olga Obosky,” he said, with a sneer.
“I understand Olga Obosky far better than you do, Mr. Landover.”
“I doubt it,” said he drily.
“She is my friend.”
“Ah! That measurably simplifies the situation. She will no doubt prove her friendship by delivering Mr. Percival to you, slightly damaged but guaranteed to—”
“Please be good enough to remember, Mr. Land-over, that you are not speaking to Manuel Crust,” she exclaimed haughtily, and, with flaming cheeks, swept past him.