“Oh, try—to endeavour—to attempt—to make a stab at it! But, all right, I’ll take that crumb of a promise. You’ll try to learn to love me. Patty, I’m going to be the teacher, and if you’ll try,—and you’ll have to, since you’ve promised,—by Jove, I’ll make you learn!”
“Very well,” and Patty’s eyes danced; “when you going to begin?”
“Right off, this minute. And never stop, short of success?”
Van Reypen looked very handsome, his dark hair tossed back from his broad forehead, his dark eyes alight with love and determination. He was the sort of man who meets any circumstances with graceful un-selfconscious ease, and he sat back in his chair, looking at Patty with an air of assured proprietorship, that amused rather than irritated her.
“But I’m not engaged to you,” and Patty shook her lace-capped head till her curls bobbed.
“No? Oh, do be! Let’s be that, at least.”
“What! engaged before I’ve learned to love you! Nevaire!”
“All right, Sweetness. I’ll wait. But it won’t be long. The poet babbles of ‘love’s protracted growing,’ but ours won’t be so terribly protracted, I promise you! I’ll give you a week to decide in,—and that’s too long——”
“A week! I couldn’t begin to get ready to think about it in that time! Give me a month, and I’ll go you.”
“All right, your wish is law. A month from today, then, you’re to complete your lessons, and graduate a full-fledged ladylove of your humble servant.”