“And he knew all the time it was false!” he cried.
She put a soft finger on his tense lips.
“We just won’t think of him—and really, I’ve forgiven him long ago, for it was he that helped me in the end, you know. Besides, he acknowledged that he didn’t really suppose you were Paul Weston. I—I fancy he didn’t want me to think too highly of this interesting Mr. Joseph Westbrook!” she added saucily.
The arm that held her tightened its clasp.
“He needn’t have worried,” she continued, with uptilted chin. “I shall never, never marry Mr. Joseph Westbrook!”
“Ethel!”
“But if Hustler Joe or Paul Weston should ask——”
Her lips were silenced by a kiss and a fervent, “You little fraud of a sweetheart!”
Interludes