“Of course I do!” she cooed. “I always, always did, only I was so selfish and so careless!”

He carried her to the sofa and sat down with her on his knee, trying to look into her face. But she had somehow contrived to hide it on his shoulder, and he did not succeed.

“Then you never loved that puppy?” he asked, amazed.

One hand crept up to his other shoulder.

“Oh, Dicky, no! And⁠—and you⁠—you don’t love that horrid Mrs. Fanshawe, do you?”

He was still more amazed.

“ Mrs. Fanshawe? Great heavens, no! You never thought that, surely?”