“I don’t care. I want to talk to you. I must!”
He didn’t approve of walking in the rain; he thought it imprudent and eccentric, so that he was somewhat stiff; but she took no notice of that. She thrust her hand through his arm and squeezed it a little.
“Lionel!” she whispered, “Shall we get married?”
“My dearest girl!” he cried. “You know there’s nothing on God’s earth I want so much. But——”
“No! Listen! We can!”
And she told him Miss Eppendorfer’s plan. He refused violently; it wasn’t fair to Frankie; he would be a cad, a beast.
“You’ll be much more of a beast if you won’t. We can be happy. I’ll save up, and after you find a job, you can save too, so that we can soon have a home of our own. And until then, of course, we’ll keep it a secret. But, oh, Lionel, I do so want us to be safely married, so that no one can separate us. So that if you were to be sick, I could look after you.”
He comprehended perfectly and sympathised with that curious and touching idea of all lovers; that if only they can be married, no ill can touch them; they are safe.
“I can’t!” he said. “Absolutely I can’t. Don’t you see, old girl, I want to give you something—I don’t want to take everything from you. I want——”
“Don’t let pride stand in the way!” she entreated. “Lionel, only suppose one of us were to die! Dear, darling old boy, let’s be brave. Let’s just go ahead, and if things are hard, why, we’ll go through with them together.”