"Got over being mad?" she said, still mischievously inclined.

"I'm not mad," he answered.

"I thought you were," she said, smiling.

"Quit your fooling about that," he said, in an offhand way.
"Were you serious?"

"Certainly," she answered. Then, with an air of one who did not
intentionally mean to create trouble, "He came lots of times. I
thought you knew."

The game of deception was up with Drouet. He did not try to
simulate indifference further.

"Did he spend the evenings here?" he asked.

"Sometimes. Sometimes they went out."

"In the evening?"

"Yes. You mustn't look so mad, though."

"I'm not," he said. "Did any one else see him?"

"Of course," said the girl, as if, after all, it were nothing in
particular.