“Oh! Oh! Think of Dicky!”

He released her at that, and sprang to his feet.

“Why should I think of him? ’Tis of you and myself I think! Only a week ago you vowed he was unkind⁠—”

“You are monstrous wicked to remind me of that! We were both cross⁠—and then we were both sorry. I am very fond of poor Dicky.”

“Fond of him! Ay, so you may be, but you do not love him! Not as a woman loves a man⁠—do you?”

“Harold!”

“Of course you do not! You used to love me⁠—no, do not shake your head, ’tis true! You would have married me had it not been for Tracy.”

“Oh, Harry! How can you say so? What had he to do with it?”