"So you know who I am?"
"N-no. But--it isn't George--is it?"
"Why, yes----"
"O-h!" she breathed. A sense of swimming faintness enveloped her: she swayed; but an unmistakable ripping noise brought her suddenly to herself.
"I am afraid you are tearing your skirt somehow," he said anxiously. "Let me----"
"No!"
The desperation of the negative approached violence, and he involuntarily stepped back.
For a moment they faced one another; the flush died out on her cheeks.
"If," she said, "your name actually is George, this--this is the most-- the most terrible punishment--" She closed her eyes with her fingers as though to shut out some monstrous vision.
"What," asked the amazed young man, "has my name to do with----"