He shook his head.
"No—not fair," he said.
Then she stopped, and faced him, and regarded him with arch eyes.
"And yet it was on this very pathway, only yesterday morning, that you swore that there was nothing in the world that you wouldn't do for me!"
"That was different," said he, with some hesitation. "I meant as regards myself. This concerns some one else."
"Oh, very well," said she, and she walked on proudly. "I dare say I can find out."
He touched her arm to detain her.
"Have you a note-book?" he asked.
She took from her pocket a combined purse and note-book; and without a word—or a smile—she pulled out the pencil.
"'Hugh Anstruther, Western Scotsman Office, New York,'" said he, rather shamefacedly.