Then they parted--his voice changed to the formal voice of a servant.
"Miss Van Gorder wishes the fire kept burning," he announced, with a whispered "Play up!" to Dale.
Dale caught his meaning at once.
"Put some logs on the fire, please," she said loudly, for the benefit of any listening ears.

Then in an undertone to Bailey, "Jack--I'm nearly distracted!" Bailey threw his wood on the fire, which received it with appreciative crackles and sputterings.

Then again, for a moment, he clasped his sweetheart closely to him.
"Dale, pull yourself together!" he whispered warningly.

"We've got a fight ahead of us!" He released her and turned back toward the fire.
"These old-fashioned fireplaces eat up a lot of wood," he said in casual tones, pretending to arrange the logs with the poker so the fire would draw more cleanly.
But Dale felt that she must settle one point between them before they took up their game of pretense again.
"You know why I sent for Richard Fleming, don't you ?" she said, her eyes fixed beseechingly on her lover.

The rest of the world might interpret her action as it pleased--she couldn't bear to have Jack misunderstand.
But there was no danger of that.