"But you don't understand," she tried to say. "I am not the sort of person at all whom you ought to think of marrying. I am very, very poor, and I am over here because I betrayed a trust, to try and steal back something which was lost through my carelessness. I might be put in prison for what I am trying to do. All sorts of things might happen to me. You mustn't have anything to do with me."
He smiled, and rested his hand for a moment once more upon her thin white fingers.
"Little girl," he said, "I believe in you, and that is quite enough. I shall get a special license to-morrow."
She laughed a little hysterically.
"Forgive me," she said, wiping her eyes, "but over in New York they call Englishmen slow. How dare you talk of special licenses, when I have told you that I cannot, that I will not even think of marrying you!"
He looked at her with sudden keenness.
"Is there any one else?" he asked gravely.
She was forced to speak the truth.
"No, there is no one!" she said.
"Good!" he answered. "I thought not. As a matter of form, have you any further reasons why you won't marry me?"