The girl was gazing at him earnestly. ‘Dead without knowing it! How terrible that sounds! I used to think as you do... once,’ she added wistfully. She checked herself. ‘You make me curious about you. I wish you’d tell me who you really are...’
Dene laughed and shook his head. ‘If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. And it wouldn’t interest you, anyway. Think of me,’ he went on with an air of mock gallantry, ‘as a troubador who troubles the hearts of lovely women with an old song!’
Her soft eyes smiled at him and his heart leaped. ‘If I confided in anybody,’ she said, ‘I think I could confide in you.’ She gazed away, her expression wistful again. ‘Tell me this: if one has loved and... and failed’— she paused to steady her voice— ‘to lose heart afterwards, is that— what did you call it?—
