It was answered with equal sang froid.
“One was Cassius Calhoun—the other Louise Poindexter.” She did not start. She did not even show sign of being surprised. What was spoken already had prepared her for the revelation. Her rejoinder was a single word, pronounced in a tone of defiance. “Well!”
“Well!” echoed Calhoun, chagrined at the slight effect his speeches had produced; “I suppose you understand me?”
“Not any more than ever.”
“You wish me to speak further?”
“As you please, sir.”
“I shall then. I say to you, Loo, there’s but one way to save your father from ruin—yourself from shame. You know what I mean?”
“Yes; I know that much.”
“You will not refuse me now?”
“Now more than ever!”