“Say away, my darling. I trust you perfectly.”
She flashed a grateful look at him. “It is this way, my dear. I have two, three, yes four, things to consider:—My own personal problem—my family's—yours—and a social one.”
“My family's?” he asked, with a faint shade of offence in his tone.
“No no dear—your own,” she explained.
“Better cut mine out, Little Girl,” he said. “I'll consider that myself.”
“Well—I won't talk about it if you don't want me to. There are the other three.”
“I won't question your second, nor your imposing third, but isn't the first one—your own personal problem—a good deal answered?” he suggested, holding her close for a moment.
“Don't!” she said. “I can't talk straight when you put it that way.”
She rose hurriedly and took a step or two up and down. “I don't suppose—in spite of your loving me, that I can make you see it as I do. But I'll be just as clear as I can. There are some years before us before we can be together. In that time I intend to go away and undertake a business I am interested in. My purpose is to—develop the work, to earn money, to help my family, and to—well, not to hinder you.”
“I don't understand, I confess,” he said. “Don't you propose to tell me what this 'work' is?”