"All right. But you can't keep Mr. Markham waiting indefinitely for your answer. There are hundreds of men who would give their eyes and ears and noses for the invitation. I only wish I could dress up as a man, and stick on a moustache, and go instead of you."
Anger seized him, engendered by his mingled feelings of reluctance and desire to take advantage of the chance.
"Hang!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "I'll go, and take the consequences."
"What consequences?" asked Trixie. "George, you weren't really serious when you talked about Guy Greaves just now? You don't really think you couldn't leave me for a fortnight in case I should get into mischief, and do something that would make you and me seem ridiculous?"
"You don't understand," he argued hotly.
"Then will you explain?"
"I have tried to, but you can't see my point of view. It isn't that I don't trust you, Trixie; I know you don't mean any harm; but if you make yourself conspicuous with other men you can't expect people not to talk and think the worst, and I can't bear that you should be a subject for scandal."
"But why should you imagine I am going to give anybody cause to talk directly your back is turned? I should do nothing while you are away that I wouldn't do while you are here."
"That's just it!" he said, with some excitement. "If you ride and drive all over the place with young Greaves, and let him come and sit here for hours, as you did before he went on leave, there is bound to be gossip."
"But you know that there's nothing in it," she argued plaintively. "You have said so. Isn't that enough?"