"Not in the least. Why should it?..."
"Ah, why?..." and his hand suddenly closed over hers, and at the strong, possessive touch the magnetism of the man made her blood race through her veins. She tried to draw her hand away, but he only held it more tightly, and his face was very engaging as he said, "I've a good mind not to tell you who the other woman is as you are not interested."
"Then I shall conclude she will not have anything to do with you," came the quick retort. And then her fascinating mouth twitched at the corners in a way that threatened to undo van Hert entirely. He looked away with a half-fierce expression. "If you don't want me to crush you in my arms out here in a public road, don't do that."
"Don't do what?..." innocently; and then they both laughed.
When they were serious again his voice sounded a deeper and more forceful note. "Dearest," he said, still imprisoning her hand, "it seems superfluous for me to tell you how much I love that other woman, as superfluous as to name her. I seem as if I had neither a thought nor an idea nor a feeling that does not love her."
"Then let us hope she is not a stiff-necked Britisher," quoth Diana, still as if a little afraid to be serious.
"Ah!..." and he raised her hand to his lips. "I believe you will make me love the whole race."
"That would complicate matters exceedingly for you," with a mischievous taunt in her eyes. "You seem to have hated them so very satisfactorily up to now. What shall you say to your colleagues the next time they are expecting you at one of their fiery denunciation meetings?... I have married a wife, an English one, therefore I cannot come?..."
"Shall I have married her?..." and he looked hard into her face, blissfully indifferent to her shafts.
"Married whom?..." she asked, provokingly.