She looked up, trying to laugh, but could not seem to take it as coolly as she might have wished to.
“Not that a kiss is very important in these days,” she continued, “yet it might interest you to hear that a friend of yours rather fancies me. He wouldn’t like you to do it. But—” She lifted her blue eyes with faint malice—“What is a woman between friends?”
“Who is he?”
“Jack Graylock.”
Drene remained motionless.
“I haven’t encouraged him,” she said. “Perhaps that is why.”
“Why he fancies you?”
“Why he asked me to marry him. It was the only thing he had not asked.”
“He asked that?”
“After he realized it was the only way, I suppose,” she said coolly. Drene took her into his arms and kissed her deliberately on the mouth. Looking up at him she said: “After all, he is your friend, isn’t he?”