"You haven't told me yet when you will marry me," he reminded her.
She looked at him piteously.
"Please don't be foolish," she said, "I cannot marry you; I can never marry you. I told you that before. You must please put it out of your head. I am going now, and it must be"—her voice trembled a little—"good-bye!"
"It will be nothing of the sort," he answered. "Do you care for me a little, Virginia?"
"I—perhaps I do," she faltered.
"I thought you did," he whispered, smiling. "I hoped so, anyhow. That settles it, Virginia. You haven't a chance of getting away from me, dear. You may just as well make up your mind to be Mrs. Mildmay as soon as I can get that license."
"You are the most impossible person!" she declared in despair. "How can
I make you believe me?"
"Nohow," he answered. "Let me come with you, please, this evening."
"I will not," she answered firmly. "Do believe me, please, that it is impossible."
"Very well, then," he answered, "you shall have your own way, but on one condition, and that is that you tell me where I can find you to-morrow. I shall probably have the license then."