She shook her head.
"Whisper it."
But she could not, and yet in her heart the foolish names were singing together.
"How can I leave you?" Guy demanded.
"Leave me?" she echoed.
"I ought. I ought. You see, if I don't, I shall never persuade my father that we must be married next year. I must go to London and show that I'm in earnest."
"But when will you go?" said Pauline in deep dismay.
"Is your voice sad?" he asked. "Pauline, don't you want me to go?"
"Of course I don't," she replied, turning up to his a face so miserable that he held her to him and vowed he would not go.
"My dearest, I only thought it was my duty, but if you will believe in me, then let me stay in Wychford. After all, you are young. I am young. Why, you won't be twenty till May morning. And I shan't be twenty-three till next August. Even if we wait three years to be married, we shall be always together, and it won't seem so long."