But why did I?" she accused him. "You tried to"
"Well," he dared. "What did you do to mine? You tore it up—and threw it away."
"I didn't! Oh!" She was scarlet. "How did you find out?" The dog came barking and jumping about her, with Conroy stumbling over him. "He didn't remember!" she cried. "How did you know?... He hasn't changed a bit.... Isn't it funny; he called me 'Miss Margaret'!"
They all talked together, raising their voices to drown Dexter's yelping. "It was my plan. I wanted to surprise you." "I told her we'd find you here." "I almost called for Con on my way out, too." "Isn't it fun!" "Quiet, sir!" "Just look at him!" "Down, sir!"
Conroy caught the dog and muzzled it with a hand; they heard the shrill treble of their voices, unsupported by its barking; and they stopped, self-conscious. The excitement ceased as suddenly as it had begun.
Don looked from Conroy to her with a quick change to bashfulness that took him in the middle of a smile and froze it. She was "Miss Margaret"—and she was not. "I didn't know any other name," he apologized. "I"
"Didn't you? Didn't I ever tell you?"
"No. You"
"Richardson."
Miss Richardson. It made her a stranger to him. He felt almost as if they needed an introduction. "You knew mine?"
