"
"It does," said Spence. "But it didn't."
"And is there no one--no friend, from whom you could naturally
inquire? You feel you wouldn't care to ask anyone?"
"Ask? Good heavens, no--certainly not!"
"Men are queer," said Desire naively. "A woman would just simply
have to ask."
"She would."
"You think me inquisitive?" Her quick brain had not missed the dry
implication of his tone. "But you see I had to know something. It's
all right, I'm sure. But it would have been so much--more
comfortable if she were quite married."
(Oh course it would--why in thunder hadn't he thought of that? The
professor was much annoyed with himself.)
"She is probably quite, utterly married long ago," he said gloomily.
"What possible difference can it make?"
"None. Don't look so bitter! Perhaps I should not have asked
questions. I won't ask any more--except one. Would you mind very
much telling me her name?"
Her name!
The harassed man looked wildly around. But there was no escape. Not
even Sami was in sight. Only a jeering crow flapped black wings and
laughed discordantly.
"Just her first name, you know," added Desire reasonably.
"Oh yes--certainly. No, of course I don't mind. I am quite willing
to tell you her name. But--do you mean her real name or--or--the
name she was usually called?" The professor was sparring wildly for
time.
"Wasn't she called by her real name?"
"Well--er--not always."
Desire's eyebrows became very slanting.
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