At last: "Do you mean Captain Watts?" she asked.
"Yes, I mean him."
"He is not my lover."
"I ask your pardon. The inference was as natural as my error."
"Sir?"
"Appearances," said I, "are proverbially deceitful. Instead of saying 'your lover,' I should, perhaps, have said 'one of your lovers.' And so again ask pardon."
"Are you my lover, sir?"
"I?" said I, taken aback at the direct shot so unexpected.
"Yes, you, my lord. Are you one of my lovers?"
"I think not. Why do you ask me that which never could be a question that yes or no need answer?"