"I can't give it up. I won't give it up. When a fellow means it as I do he never gives it up. Nothing on earth shall make me give it up. Ayala, you've got to do it, and so I tell you."
"Nobody can make me," said Ayala, nodding her head, but somewhat tamed by the unexpected passion of the young man.
"Then you won't say one kind word to me?"
"I can't say anything kinder."
"Very well. Then I shall go away and come again constantly till you do. I mean to have you. When you come to know how very much I love you I do think you will give way at last." With that he picked himself up from the ground and hurried out of the house without saying another word.
CHAPTER XII.
"WOULD YOU?"
The scene described in the last chapter took place in March. For three days afterwards there was quiescence in Kingsbury Crescent. Then there came a letter from Tom to Ayala, very pressing, full of love and resolution, offering to wait any time,—even a month,—if she wished it, but still persisting in his declared intention of marrying her sooner or later;—not by any means a bad letter had there not been about it a little touch of bombast which made it odious to Ayala's sensitive appreciation. To this. Ayala wrote a reply in the following words:
When I tell you that I won't, you oughtn't to go on. It isn't manly.
Ayala.
Pray do not write again for I shall never answer another.