"However much," said Gay, "I may regret my bet, there was nothing Indian about it. I'm sure that you are a clean, upright young man. I'm a decent sort of girl, though I say it that shouldn't. We might do worse. I've heard that love-matches aren't always what they are cracked up to be. And I'm quite sure that I want to go to Africa and hunt big game."
"Thank you," said Pritchard humbly. "And at least there would be love on one side."
"Nonsense," said Gay briskly. "I'm ready, if you are."
Pritchard jumped to his feet and threw away his cigarette.
"Now," he said, "that you've proved everything, won't you let me help?"
Gay refused him doubtfully, and then with a burst of generosity:
"Why, yes," she said, "and, by the way, Mr. Pritchard, there was no magic about the chipmunk. He's one my brother trained. He lives at The Camp, and he was just out for a stroll and happened in on us. I don't want you to find out that I'm a fraud from any one—but me."