“Oh, yes, you will,” the girl said, putting his warm outstretched hand back determinedly. “And it doesn't matter that we love one another, not one bit. Because I am not going to marry anyone.”
“Of course you are!” said Anthony, staring at her. “You are going to marry me. Do you really think I am going to let you back out of it now?”
“You can't help yourself,” Cecily said, still with that miserable note of finality in her voice. “It is no use, Tony. You have just got to forget me.”
“Forget you!” Anthony said scornfully. “That is so likely, isn't it? Now, dear, what is this bogy that you have conjured up that is going to separate us? You say it has nothing to do with me?”
“No, no! Of course it hasn't!”
“And you haven't fallen in love with anyone else?”
“Don't be silly, Tony!” There was a momentary irritation in the clear tones. But something in the accent, even in the homely words themselves roused fresh hopes in Anthony's heart.
“Then it is something someone else has said,” he hazarded, “or done.”
For a moment Cecily did not answer. She pressed her lips very closely together. At last she said slowly:
“That is all that I can tell you, Tony. I just wanted to say that and—good-bye.”