“Lois,” he said, “what my mother has advised would make me very happy. Will you remember that I wish it? Will you remember that?”
“Yes!” she faltered.
“I shall make you a good husband,” he added, coming a little nearer to her, sinking on one knee by her side, and taking her cold, unresisting hands into his. “I shall make you a good husband, and I think that you will be happy. We cannot go on like this. I only see you now by stealth. It must come to an end.”
“Yes!” she faltered.
“Next time we meet,” he continued, “I will tell you what plans we have made.”
She turned her head slowly, and looked at him with frightened, wide-open eyes.
“Why?” she asked. “Why do you want me to marry you? You do not care for me. You do not care for me at all. Is it because I am rich? But you—you are rich yourselves. I would offer you my money, but you cannot want that.”
He smiled enigmatically.
“No!” he said. “Money is a good thing, but we have money ourselves. Don’t you believe, Lois,” he added, bending towards her, “that I am fond of you?”
“Oh! yes,” she answered, “if you say so!”