Chaldea's lip drooped. "Never again? Never again?"
"No. It is impossible, since you have chosen to act in this way. Come, you silly girl, be sensible, and--"
"Silly girl! Oh, yes, silly girl," flashed out Chaldea. "And what is she?"
"She?" Lambert stiffened himself. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the Gentile lady. I was under the window this afternoon. I heard all you were talking about."
The man stepped back a pace and clenched his hands. "You--listened?" he asked slowly, and with a very white face.
"Avali! And why not? You have no right to love another man's romi."
"I do not love her," began Lambert, and then checked himself, as he really could not discuss so delicate a matter with this wildcat. "Why did you listen, may I ask?" he demanded, passing his tongue over his dry lips.
"Because I love you, and love is jealous."
Lambert restrained himself by a violent effort from shaking her. "You are talking nonsense," he declared with enforced calmness. "And it is ridiculous for you to love a man who does not care in the least for you."
"It will come--I can wait," insisted Chaldea sullenly.
"If you wait until Doomsday it will make no difference. I don't love you, and I have never given you any reason to think so."
"Chee-chee!" bantered the girl. "Is that because I am not a raclan?"
"A married Gentile lady, that is. You love her?"
"I--I--see, here, Chaldea, I am not going to talk over such things with you, as my affairs are not your business."
"They are the business of the Gorgious female's rom."
"Rom? Her husband, you mean. What do you know of--"
"I know that the Gentle Pine is really one of us," interrupted the girl quickly. "Ishmael Hearne is his name."
"Ishmael Hearne," insisted Chaldea pertly. "He comes to the fire of the Gentle Romany when he wearies of your Gorgious flesh-pots."
"Pine a gypsy," muttered Lambert, and the memory of that dark, lean, Eastern face impressed him with the belief that what the girl said was true.
"Avali. A true son of the road. He is here."
"Here?" Lambert started violently. "What do you mean?"
"I say what I mean, rye. He you call Pine is in our camp enjoying the old life. Shall I bring him to you?" she inquired demurely.
In a flash Lambert saw his danger, and the danger of Agnes, seeing that the millionaire was as jealous as Othello. However, it seemed to him that honesty was the best policy at the moment. "I shall see him myself later," he declared after a pause. "If you listened, you must know that there is no reason why I should not see him. His wife is my cousin, and paid me a friendly visit--that is all."