His low laugh spoke his disbelief. She read it in the sound and in the way his gaze left her face and went back to the fire.
"You don't think I mean that," said she.
"Hardly."
"Why not?"
"It is—inconceivable."
"Why?"
Her face, turned toward him, invited him to look at it again, but he did not—just then.
"Because you are—Helena Forrest," he answered.
"And what is she, please, in your opinion?"
"An inhabitant of another world than that I live in."