let him look at her a minute; at last she said without flinching: "I'm not in love with Anthony Bream."
Dennis shook his head sadly. "What does that do for my revenge?"
Rose had another quick flush. "It shows you what I consent to discuss with you," she rather proudly replied.
He turned his eyes back to the quarter to which he had directed them before. "You do consent?"
"Can you ask—after what I've done?"
"Well, then, he no longer cares?"
"For me?" said Rose. "He never cared."
"Never?"
"Never."
"Upon your honour?"
"Upon my honour."
"But you had an idea———?" Dennis bravely pursued.
Rose as dauntlessly met him. "I had an idea."
"And you've had to give it up?"
"I've had to give it up."
Dennis was silent; he slowly got upon his feet. "Well, that does something."
