“We always are——”
“But when I found out and looked it in the face—I did do that—I firmly determined to——”
“Cut it out?”
“Yes, just that! And then—the other day——”
“It ran you out.”
Sên nodded. “And now,” he added, his face radiant, “I cannot give Ruby up!”
“Or think you can’t,” Snow insinuated. “So you call her Ruby! I like it best, and it suits her too. There is not much of the clinging vine about her, I think, and I assure you there was none at all yesterday when I attempted to say to her less than a tenth of what I have said to you.”
Sên laughed—rather proudly. Sir Charles Snow’s affectionate smile was grimmer.
“I’m afraid I’ve filched your own name for her,” Sên King-lo said. “I too think it suits her the better, and it’s the name I’ve always cared for most—it was my mother’s name.”
“By Jove!” Snow murmured, and added under his breath, “I’d forgotten that.”