“I won't have it!” declared Henrietta. “It's monstrous! It's outrageous. I never heard of such unwarranted—”
“Neither did I,” said Johnnie. “I'd be ashamed of myself—if I was ashamed.” And then, seriously, “But why shouldn't I? Two months from now it would be all right—when we are married. What are two months? Sixty days!”
“I've told you I'm not going to marry you. That I meant; and, more than ever, I mean it now. You have insulted me beyond measure.”
“Yes; awfully,” said Johnnie. “And that isn't all. I've cancelled what your Freeman took from me. I'm a cave man. I'm dubbing you with a modern club. I'm getting you in my villainous toils.”
“It is not a thing to be jocular about,” said Henrietta. “I will not have it!”
“All right,” said Johnnie cheerfully. “What are you going to do not to have it? Look, Henrietta; why be so obstinate? Don't you like me?”
“I will not have it!” she could only repeat.
“That's not what bothers me,” said Johnnie. “What I want to know is whether you will have me?”
“I will not have you!” said Henrietta. “I'll never marry any man! Least of all you—after this.”
“You'll just take Lem and go off and be a grandmother to him,” said Johnnie. “That's nice. Well—it's almost too hot to eat, isn't it?”