With her clear, brilliant eyes fixed upon mine, she took the card almost mechanically, then glanced at it.
“I’m greatly indebted to you, Mr Cleeve,” she said. “But I don’t see there is any necessity for you to know my name. It is sufficient, surely, for you to reflect that you one night befriended one who was in distress.”
“But I must know your name,” I protested. “Come, do tell me.”
She hesitated, then lifted her eyes again to mine and answered—
“My name is Aline.”
“Aline,” I repeated. “A name as charming as its owner.”
“You want to pay me compliments,” she laughed, blushing deeply.
“And your surname?” I went on.
“Cloud,” she replied. “Aline Cloud.”
“Then your aunt’s name is Popejoy, and you are living at 16, Ellerdale Road, Hampstead,” I said, laughing. “Well, we have discovered it all at last.”