"Oh, come, Gipsy! What do you know about it?"
She sighed, but did not raise her head.
"If you loved Gabrielle Silvester you would not let me come to this house."
"Why not, Gipsy?"
"Because I love you, Harry."
So there it was, in a flash, and both her arms were about his neck and her lips hot upon his own. She loved him and had no shame in the avowal. Destiny gave him to her. The little wild girl who came God knew whence, was not this her haven at last? She entered into her heritage fiercely as one who would not be dispossessed.
Of course, Harry treated it as a good joke, or perhaps attempted so to treat it. He could not resist her kisses and made no effort to do so; but when she had calmed down a little and he had pulled her on to his knees so that he could look deep into her black eyes, he said:
"We mustn't tell Gabrielle about this; we mustn't say a word just yet, Gipsy."
She thought about it, pulling at the button of his vest.
"Do you wish to love me in secret, Harry?" she asked presently. He laughed again at that, and said it would be a good joke.