“Whoever it is that’s to keep you it might be worse,” said he.
“Then there’s somebody.”
“Somebody,” he repeated; “the cleverest young——”
“Stop! stop!” she cried, rising suddenly to her feet; “do not dare to mention a name; spare me that.”
He looked at her in amazement.
“Do you think I’m a stone, Duncan?”
“You would not be asking me that twice if I was younger myself,” he said redly, looking at her fine figure, the blush like a sunset on her neck, the palpitation of her bosom, the flash and menace of her eyes.
“Well, well, well, go on, tell me more,” she cried when she had recovered herself. “What more is there?”
“You are the one that should know most,” said he.
“I know nothing at all,” she answered bitterly. “It seems that nowadays the lady is the last to be taken into confidence about her own marriage.”