Constance sat bolt upright from apprehension. Loretta's air of mystery, which was accentuated by a whispering tone, conveyed to her the true import of the intimation. Yet she would not seem to understand.
"What do you mean, Loretta?"
"My man; the father of my child. He was in town the other day. He has found out where I am and has been plaguing me to go back to him."
"Did he ask you to marry him?" asked Constance, seeking that solution.
"That's not what he meant. But I've thought of that too—on baby's account. I guess he would if I were set on it. But we're both doing well single, and—" She stopped and laughed sarcastically—"and supposing we didn't like each other and got divorced, I could never marry anyone else."
"No matter about that now, Loretta. Do you love him still?"
"It's love that makes the world go round. There isn't much else worth living for, I guess." She pursed her lips after this enigmatical answer, then suddenly relaxed them in an impetuous outburst. "One thing's sure, Constance Stuart, you don't know what love is or you'd never have sent away Gordon Perry, Esq., Counsellor-at-Law."
"Don't, Loretta," said Constance, imploringly.
"It's true."
"I love him with all my heart. You don't understand."