'Though I could not say Mr. Fenellan.'
'You see; Dartrey, it must be.'
'If I could!'
'But the fellow is not a captain: and he is a friend, an old friend, very old friend: he'll be tipped with grey in a year or two.'
'I might be bolder then.'
'Imagine it now. There is no disloyalty in your calling your friends by their names.'
Her nature rang to the implication. 'I am not bound.' Dartrey hung fast, speculating on her visibly: 'I heard you were?'
'No. I must be free.'
'It is not an engagement?'
'Will you laugh?—I have never quite known. My father desired it: and my desire is to please him. I think I am vain enough to think I read through blinds and shutters. The engagement—what there was—has been, to my reading, broken more than once. I have not considered it, to settle my thoughts on it, until lately: and now I may suspect it to be broken. I have given cause—if it is known. There is no blame elsewhere. I am not unhappy, Captain Dartrey.'