"You've known me long enough to be sure I'm not likely to turn out a rotter. You needn't worry about money, and—you love me or pretend to. Now why in the name of fortune can't you be sensible?"
"But there'll come a moment, Maurice darling, and I think it will come soon, when I shall say 'yes' of my own accord. And whatever you said or done before that moment couldn't make me say 'yes' now."
"And meanwhile I'm to go on wearing myself out with asking?"
"No," she murmured, afire with blushes at such revelation of himself. "No, I'll say 'Maurice' and then you'll know."
"And I'm to go off to Spain with nothing to hope for but 'one day, one day'?"
"You'll have other things to think about there."
"You're rather amusing with your proposed diversions for my imagination. But, seriously, will it be 'yes' when I come back, say, in a fortnight?"
"No, not yet. Not for a little while. Oh, don't ask me any more; you are unkind."
Maurice seemed to give up the pursuit suddenly.
"I sha'n't see you for some time," he said.