"You're satirical. You are in love with him, aren't you?"
"He's coming to see me to-morrow. Then I shall decide whether I am or not."
"Better hurry a bit, for he's off to the wilds in a few days, to shoot something. Who was it said that if an Englishman saw an angel his first impulse would be to shoot it?"
"And yours would be to give it a drink, and get it to pose. … Basil, you don't tell me everything, do you?"
"Everything—you know I do. Why do you say that?"
"Because—I had an idea to-night, watching you. You know you told me about a person—before we were married—a married woman. … Was it Mary?"
"No! What an idea—why on earth?"
"You wouldn't tell me if it was Mary, would you?"
"No, I wouldn't. But it wasn't. I've told you, it wasn't anyone you know."
"Yes, but if it were somebody I knew, you'd lie about it, wouldn't you?"
"I don't lie to you, Teresa."
"You would, in such a case. You wouldn't betray the other woman. … So how can I know you aren't lying now?"
Basil gave an exasperated groan.
