"I give it up," I said. "There is only one argument left. You know quite well that the pecuniary excuse exists no longer."
She looked at me and her face softened.
"You are a queer person!" she murmured. "You are so very English, so very set in your views, so very respectable; and yet you are willing to take us both—"
"I am only thinking of marrying you," I interrupted.
"Well, you were going to make daddy an allowance, weren't you?"
"With great pleasure," I assured her vigorously; "and I only wish you'd take my hand now and we'd fix up everything to-morrow. We could go down and see my house in the country, Eve—I think you'd love it—and there are such things, even in England, you know, as special licenses."
"You dear person!" she laughed. "I can't be rushed into respectability like this."
Perhaps that was really my first moment of genuine encouragement, for there had been a little break in her voice, something in her tone not altogether natural. If only we had been alone—if even another summons to the telephone had come just then for her father! Fortune, however, was not on my side. Instead, the waiter appeared with the bill and diverted my attention. Eve and her father whispered together. The moment had passed.
"Anything particular on this afternoon, Walmsley? "Mr. Parker asked as he rose to his feet.
"Not a thing," I replied.