"I said it was." He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is expecting a severe scolding. Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent herself from laughing.
"You told The Morning Post people that it was correct when you knew that it was wrong?"
Bowen hung his head. "But it isn't wrong," he muttered.
"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you, and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged. Now I shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being contradicted."
"Good Lord! Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen. "They'll think we've all gone mad."
"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment.
"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
Patricia looked up. This was the first time Bowen had used the diminutive of her name. Somehow it sounded very intimate.
"I am afraid I have an—an——"
The hesitation was her undoing.