On his side Anstice took a cigarette from an open box before him, but he did not light it, yet.
"I was never very good at guessing conundrums," he said coolly. "Suppose you tell me, without more ado, why you have—honoured me to-night?"
His tone, the deliberate pause before he uttered the word, showed Cheniston plainly that his motive was suspected, and his manner hardened.
"I will tell you, as you wish, without more ado," he said. "Only—it is always a little awkward to introduce a lady's name."
"Awkward, yes; and sometimes unnecessary." Anstice's eyes, stern beneath their level brows, met the other man's in a definitely hostile gaze. "Are you quite sure it is necessary now?"
"I think so." His tone was every whit as hostile. "The lady to whom I refer is, as you have doubtless guessed by now, Miss Wayne."
"I gathered as much from your manner." Anstice spoke coldly. "Well? I really don't see why Miss Wayne's name should be mentioned between us, but——"
"Don't you?" Cheniston's blue eyes gleamed in his brown face. "I think you do. Look here, Anstice. There is nothing to be gained by hedging. Let us fight fair and square, gloves off, if you like, and acknowledge that we both admire and respect Miss Wayne very deeply."
"I quite agree with that." Anstice's eyes, too, began to glitter. "And—having said so much, what then?"
"Well, having cleared the ground so far, suppose we go a little further. I think—you will correct me if I am wrong in my surmise—I think I am right in saying that we both cherish a dream in regard to Miss Wayne."