"What do you mean?" he said.
"Nothing—I didn't say anything, did I? Oh, don't let's quarrel—let's enjoy our lunch."
"Very well," he said. "Let's, for time's flying. But it's best for you to know that I'm Margaret's."
"Never mind—lend yourself to me for a few days. Surely she won't mind if we amuse ourselves in the desert?"
"I'm not going to lend myself to you," he said. "What nonsense you talk!
You're going back the way you came. You can play with someone else."
"You dear silly, you can't make me!" Millicent laughed at the idea. "Besides, you know you want me all the time, and you've just promised to enjoy this jolly little meal and to lecture me afterwards. I'm not going to be unhappy because you belong to Margaret Lampton."
"So long as you know I do," he said, "I feel I can eat your excellent lunch."
"And if Margaret doesn't know, what can it matter?"
"Oh, Millicent!"
"You know, Mike, it's what's found out that matters. If you enjoy yourself and make me happy for two or three days in the desert and Margaret never knows, what harm could it do?"