"There might be several," he said coolly. "Who is it?"
For a moment a tiny flash of anger made her cheeks hot. Then she said:
"You know perfectly well it's Rosalie. I think we have become good enough comrades for me to use a man's privilege——"
"Men wouldn't permit themselves that sort of privilege," he said, laughing.
"Aren't men frank with their friends?" she demanded hotly.
"About as frank as women."
"I thought—" She hesitated, tingling with the old desire to hurt him, flick him in the raw, make him wince in his exasperating complacency. Then, "I've said it anyhow. I'm trying to show an interest in you—as you asked me to do——"
He turned in the darkness, caught her hand:
"You dear little thing," he whispered, laughing.