‘Not seriously?’
He laughed and shook his head.
‘Not very seriously I don’t think.’
‘Perhaps he was a tiny bit in love with me ... for a bit....’
‘I dare say he was. I don’t see how anybody could help being,’ he said with light tenderness, dropping quick kisses on her hair.
‘And then I suppose he stopped.... And found somebody else....’
‘Perhaps he did. Don’t let’s worry about him anyway. He and I have different ideas about—all that sort of thing. He’s rather naughty and spoilt I think—though he is such a good chap,’ he added hastily, as if fearful of sounding disloyal.
She persisted, in anguish:
‘How do you mean, naughty and spoilt, Martin?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He was embarrassed, unwilling to give his friend away. ‘A bit of a sensation-hunter perhaps.’