“He isn't David's nephew, you know. The question is, who is he? Of course I don't say it, but a good many are saying that when a man takes a false identity he has something to hide.”
She gave them no chance to reply, but sauntered out with her sex-conscious, half-sensuous walk. Outside the door her smile faded, and her face was hard and bitter. She might forget Dick Livingstone, but never would she forgive herself for her confession to Elizabeth, nor Elizabeth for having heard it.
Wallie turned to Elizabeth when she had gone, slightly bewildered.
“What's got into her?” he inquired. And then, seeing Elizabeth's white face, rather shrewdly: “That was one for him and two for you, was it?”
“I don't know. Probably.”
“I wonder if you would look like that if any one attacked me!”
“No one attacks you, Wallie.”
“That's not an answer. You wouldn't, would you? It's different, isn't it?”
“Yes. A little.”
He straightened, and looked past her, unseeing, at the wall. “I guess I've known it for quite a while,” he said at last. “I didn't want to believe it, so I wouldn't. Are you engaged to him?”