"Curious with what little ceremony I threw myself on your mercy; curious that you've been so tolerant with me; curious that—you've no curiosity."
"I never believe in being curious," he laughed. "When you're ready, you'll tell me and not before.
"About what?"
"About young Armistead, for instance."
"We disagreed. He insisted on marrying me."
"That was tactless of him."
"You know it was only a trial engagement, and it was—a trial—to both of us."
Markham grinned.
"You've relieved my mind of one burden, at least," he said. "I like Reggie. He's a nice boy. But I haven't any humor to find him poking around in these bushes with a shotgun." "Oh, there's no danger of that," she replied demurely, oblivious of his humor. "Reggie and I have parted."
Markham's eyes were turned upon the clouds. "That's rather a pity—in a way," he said quietly. "I thought you were quite suited to each other. But then—" and he surprised a curious look in her yes "—if you were going to marry Reggie, you see, you couldn't be here—and I would be the loser."
"I don't see that that would have made the slightest difference," she replied rather tartly, "provided I had not married him."