"Just now you do."
"Then I think you want discernment," she retorted with spirit.
And so they went on, as if neither of them had ever heard of such a thing as conventional propriety.
Lorrimer did not answer that last remark. He was standing at a little distance from her, watching her. Ideala was looking grave.
"What is your conscience troubling you about now?" he asked. "I never listen to my conscience."
"I don't believe you," she answered, promptly.
"That is polite," he observed.
Then there was another pause.
"It must be time for me to go," she said at last.
The rain was still falling in torrents.