“Because he will not have me.”
“He, who?” I queried.
“The man I was engaged to when I was a baby.”
“Upon my word!” I cried with indignation.
“Now, Thunderstorm, you need not go ahead and blame him. His reasons are excellent, as his face is kind and his figure straight—like a cypress tree.”
“You have seen him then?”
“Yes, he has been in Constantinople for the past two years, and I have seen him several times through the lattices of my window.”
“And he refuses to marry you?”
“He does.”
“On the ground——”