She looked at him steadily for a moment or two, meeting eyes that flung back her scrutiny with grim defiance.
"Of course I was not expecting you," she said.
"And yet you were not—altogether—surprised to see me," he rejoined, a faint jeering echo in his voice.
Avery walked on till she reached her sheltered corner. Then she laid her work-bag down in the accustomed place, and very resolutely turned and faced him.
"Tell me why you have come!" she said.
He gazed at her for a moment fiercely from under his black brows; then suddenly and disconcertingly he seized her by the wrists.
"I'll tell you," he said, speaking rapidly, with feverish utterance. "I've come because—before Heaven—I can't keep away. Avery, listen to me! Yes, you must listen. I've come because I must, because you are all the world to me and I want you unutterably. I don't believe—I can't believe—that I am nothing to you. You can't with honesty tell me so. I love you with all my soul, with all there is of me, good and bad. Avery—Avery, say you love me too!"
Just for an instant the arrogance went out of his voice, and it sank to pleading. But Avery stood mute before him, very pale, desperately calm. She made not the faintest attempt to free herself, but her hands were hard clenched. There was nothing passive in her attitude.
He was aware of strong resistance, but it only goaded him to further effort. He lifted the clenched hands and held them tight against his heart.
"You needn't try to cast me off," he said, "for I simply won't go. I know you care. You wouldn't have taken the trouble to write that letter if you didn't. And so listen! I've come now to marry you. We can go up to town to-day,—Jeanie too, if you like. And to-morrow—to-morrow we will be married by special licence. I've thought it all out. You can't refuse. I have money of my own—plenty of money. And you belong to me already. It's no good trying to deny it any more. You are my mate—my mate; and I won't try to live without you any longer!"