“Isn’t that enough, then? Come, don’t be so cold with me,” Paul went on, his voice taking caressing tones.
Cicely felt their influence. “I want to go, Paul, because that very letter of Ferdie’s makes me afraid,” she said, wistfully; “I feel that there is something behind, something I do not know.”
“If there is, it is something which he does not wish you to know.”
“That could never be; it is only because I am not with him; when I am with him, he tells me everything, he likes to tell me.”
“Will you take my word for it if I assure you that it is much better for both of you, not only for yourself, but for Ferdie, that you stay here awhile longer?”
“No,” replied Cicely, hardening. Her “no” was quiet, but it expressed an obstinacy that was immovable.
Paul looked at her. “Will you wait a week?”
“No.”
“Will you wait three days?”