"I do not think you have any right to speak to me so, nor call me by
that name."

"I must call you by the name I constantly think of you by. Joan, do you
remember what I said to you when we last met?"

"No, I--" She flushed suddenly. To deny, was unworthy of her. "Yes, I
remember."

"It is true, remember what I said. I take not one word of it back. It is
true, and will remain true all my life."

"My friend--will be wondering--"

"Joan, be a little merciful."

And now for the first time he noticed that she was not dressed as he had
seen her last. There was a suggestion of wealth, of ample means about
her appearance. Clothes were the last thing that Hugh thought of, or
noticed. Yet gradually Joan's clothes began to thrust themselves on his
notice. She was well dressed, and the stylish and becoming clothes
heightened her beauty, if possible.

"Joan, I have a confession to make."

She bent her head.

"I couldn't act unfairly or deal in an underhand way with you."

"I thought differently!" she said bitterly.