“Miss Fanny—and I have so many things to ask!”
“Don’t ask them;” she said recklessly. Was she walking into another fire?
“I must ask one.”
She expressed no curiosity or anxiety, but her heart beat so loudly it seemed as if he must hear it. Dick Fairlie’s love-making had been honest and true, but this young man?—So she walked on more rapidly.
“Yes; one question. How else should I know? And it is too great a risk to leave you here with no word—”
“Mr. Ogden, I think you have lost your senses;” she interrupted sharply.
“I thought so myself to-day. When you went off with that Fairlie! I know he was with you this afternoon, and I resolved then to have my say. I do not mean to lose through being a laggard. My darling, can you—do you—?”
Fan turned and faced him. She was cool and angry.
“Mr. Ogden,” she said decisively, “that is enough! It may be your habit to make love to city girls on a fortnight’s acquaintance, but it is not mine to receive it. I have been friendly because I thought you a gentleman!”
“Fanny! Miss Endicott,” and he confronted her in so authoritative a fashion, that she felt his strength at once. “You mistake me altogether. I am not in the habit of trifling. If I speak soon it is because I must leave you, and I know another loves you. You have only to say that you prefer him, and I will be silent.”