The last word died away as if its boldness hushed him with a sense of what he asked so readily. The girl rose to her feet, swaying slightly in the strong wind; her fingers gripped the stone railing behind her while she strove to see his face through the dark. A street lamp sent a faint grayness into the pavilion, but he stood in shadows.
"You—are asking—me——?"
He laughed shortly to cover his own embarrassment.
"To marry a man who isn't much more than a chauffeur out of work! Driving a car is my only way of earning money, just now. Of course, if we go away together we will have to live on what I can bring in. It's not very dazzling, but neither is being a nurse."
Comprehension slowly came to her.
"You would do this so you never could go back," she whispered, half to herself. "To be cut off from everyone, because of me!"
"Not that!" he offered quick apology. "Why, you are above me by every count I can make! No, it is because I can't stand alone. And, of course—if I were married——"
"Mrs. Masterson would give her husband another chance," she finished.
He could not see her expression, but he felt her bitterness, and that he was losing.
"Don't be offended," he appealed. "I thought we could be good friends—why, if I did not respect and—and admire you, would I be asking to spend my life with you? I know I am not offering you much, but it's my best."