“Don’t you know who she was? What was her name?”
“That’s just what I want to find out. And nobody seems to know, except Phil.”
“Do tell us, Mr. Gallatin.”
“She had no name,” said Mr. Gallatin very quietly. “There was no girl in the woods.”
“A woman, then?” queried Miss Jaffray.
“Neither girl—nor woman—only a Dryad. The woods are full of them. My Indian guide insisted that——”
“Oh, no, you sha’n’t get out of it so easily, Phil, and I insist upon your sticking to facts. A Dryad, indeed, with the latest thing in fishing rods and creels!”
Miss Jaffray had not for a moment taken her gaze from Gallatin’s face, but now she changed her tone to one of impudent raillery. “You know, Phil, you’ve always held women in such high regard that I’ve always thought you positively tiresome. And now, just when I find you developing the most unusual and interesting qualities, you deny their very existence! I was just getting ready to fall madly in love with you. How disappointing you are! Isn’t he, Jane?”
“Dreadfully so,” said Miss Loring. “Tell it all, Mr. Gallatin, by all means, since we already know the half. I’m sure the reality can’t be nearly as dreadful as we already think it is.”
Her effrontery astounded him, but he met her fairly.