"I—I believed—ill—of you," she whispered.
"But you do not believe it now, sweetheart?"
"No, oh no! But—but—that duel with Mr. Bancroft. Was it—was it—some—French lady?"
Philip was silent for a moment.
"No, Cleone. That is all I can say."
"Was it"—her voice was breathless—"was it—me?"
Philip did not answer.
"It was! How wonderful!"
Philip was startled.
"You are pleased, Cleone? Pleased?"