"Why not?" she replied indolently. "Even if he had seen you, I could
have managed to have you walk home with me."
"But do you think it's quite fair? Would he like it?"
"Would HE like it?" she echoed lazily.
"Cressy," said the young man earnestly, gazing into her shadowed face.
"Have you given him any right to object? Do you understand me?"
She stopped as if thinking. "Do you want me to call him in?" she said
quietly, but without the least trace of archness or coquetry. "Would you
rather he were here--or shall we go out now and meet him? I'll say you
just came as I was going out."
What should he say? "Cressy," he asked almost curtly, "do you love me?"
It seemed such a ridiculous thing to ask, holding her thus in his arms,
if it were true; it seemed such a villainous question, if it were not.
"I think I loved you when you first came," she said slowly. "It must
have been that that made me engage myself to him," she added simply. "I
knew I loved you, and thought only of you when I was away. I came back
because I loved you.
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