"Drink your tea first, dear. You can talk afterwards."
And as she obeyed, Desmond came round and sat beside her.
"See here, Miss Maurice," he began. But she raised an imploring hand.
"Oh, don't call me that . . now. It hurts. It makes me feel I have no manner of right to be here. And I have a little right, haven't I?"
"More than a little, I should say, . . Mrs Lenox. Is that better?"
She flushed to the eyes, and glanced down at her bare left hand. It was the first time she had heard her married name; and the sound of it was music in her ears. But she shook her head.
"No. It's almost worse, till I know for certain what's going to come of my mad leap in the dark."
"Well then . . . ?"
"Why not . . 'Quita'?" She looked up beseechingly. "I should love that: and it would make me feel less of an intruder."
"You are forbidden, on pain of instantaneous eviction, to feel anything of the sort! And I heartily vote for 'Quita,'" Desmond answered, smiling into her troubled face with so irresistible a friendliness that she must needs smile back at him, however mistily.