"But it would."
"Yes, it would," he replied stoutly, turning round as he lay on the ground and facing her.
"Has it come to that?"
"Come to what? You ask me a question and I answer you truly."
"You cannot be happy without her?"
"I did not say so. You ask me whether I should like to have her here,—and I say Yes. What would you think of me if I said No?"
"My being here is not enough?" This should not have been said, of course, but the little speech came from the exquisite pain of the moment. She had meant to have said hardly anything. She had intended to be happy with him, just touching lightly on things which might lead to that attack which must be made on the morrow. But words will often lead whither the speaker has not intended. So it was now, and in the soreness of her heart she spoke. "My being here is not enough?"
"It would be enough," he said, jumping on his feet, "if you understood all, and would be kind to me."
"I will at any rate be kind to you," she replied, as she sat upon the bank looking at the running water.
"I have asked Miss Boncassen to be my wife."