"Mrs. Saulsbury knows nothing of me: we know nothing of each other. I have a lover, Mr. Sheppard, for all that. Do you want to know his name?"
"I should like to know his name, certainly," the breathless Sheppard stammered out.
"His name is Alceste——"
"A Frenchman!" Sheppard was aghast.
"A Frenchman truly—a French gentleman—a man of truth and courage and spirit and honor and everything good. A man who wouldn't tell a lie or do a mean thing, or flatter a silly woman, or persecute a very unhappy girl—no, not to save his soul, Mr. Sheppard. Do you happen to know any such man?"
"No such man lives in Keeton." He was surprised into simple earnestness. "At least I don't know of any such man."
"No; you and he are not likely to come together and be very familiar. Well, Mr. Sheppard, that is the man to whom I am engaged, and I mean to keep my engagement. You can tell Mrs. Saulsbury if you like."
"But you haven't told me his other name."
"Oh—I don't know his other name."
"Miss Grey! Don't know his other name?"