He replied to her question with the words:
"My name? Why, it's Dyck Calhoun. That's all."
Her eyes brightened. "Isn't that enough?" she asked gently.
She knew of his family. She was only visiting in the district with her mother, but she had lately heard of old Miles Calhoun and his wayward boy, Dyck; and here was Dyck, with a humour in his eyes and a touch of melancholy at his lips. Somehow her heart went out to him.
Presently he said to her: "And what's your name?"
"I'm only Sheila Llyn, the daughter of my mother, a widow, visiting at
Loyland Towers. Yes, I'm only Sheila!"
She laughed.
"Well, just be 'only Sheila,"' he answered admiringly, and he held out a hand to her. "I wouldn't have you be anything else, though it's none of my business."
For one swift instant she hesitated; then she laid her hand in his.
"There's no reason why we should not," she said. "Your father's respectable."