“Why are you so determined to marry Mademoiselle Dominguez?”
“I am not. I will take any oath you like not to marry her.”
“Then it is only the written renouncement you shrink from?”
“I dare not do it.”
“Then write a letter to her asking her to release you and to keep the whole thing secret.”
“Why are you so set on this?” he asked.
“Don’t question me,” I snapped angrily.
He sat thinking in moody despair. He might well despair being between the upper and nether millstones. Then at length he took up the pen and began to write, but stopped and tore up the sheet.
“You can tell her,” he said.
I renewed my threats, promising secrecy, but he struggled hard and at length I got up and went to the door, declaring I would at once dispatch the telegram I had drafted.