“I hope you enjoyed your tête-à-tête more than I did. Not that there isn’t a certain fascination in sparring. But perhaps you fought, too.”
He returned a staccato “No.”
After a silence accentuated by the tramp, tramp of their automatic feet as they swung along, he said: “I told her I was married.”
Herbert gave a long whistle. “The devil you did! And you don’t call that fighting? What a knock-down blow!”
“What do you mean?” Matthew murmured.
“D’ you mean to say you don’t know the woman is in love with you?”
Matthew’s blood made delicious riot in his veins. He saw that strange look of worship in her eyes again.
“Nonsense!” he jerked, thickly. “The Honorable Mrs. Wyndwood in love with me!”
“I didn’t say the Honorable Mrs. Wyndwood. I said the woman. Trust me. Behind all the titles and the purple and the fine linen—there’s flesh and blood.”
“It is impossible. In love with me!”