"I think you had better," he said.
"Yes—I suppose so. She says that as I am bringing you nothing, I have no right to—to keep you waiting—that beggars can't be choosers, and—and things like that."
"My dear Chris!" he said. "And you take things like that to heart!"
"You see, they are true!" murmured Chris.
"They are not true. But all the same"—he began to smile again—"I can't for the life of me imagine why you won't marry me and get it over."
"No?" Chris suddenly looked up again; she was clinging to his arm very tightly with both hands. "It does seem rather silly, doesn't it?" she said, with resolute eyes raised to his. "Trevor, I—I'll think about it."
"Do!" he said. "Think about it quietly and sanely. And don't let yourself get frightened at nothing. As you say, it's silly."
"But you won't—press me?" she faltered. "You—you promised!"
"I keep my promises, Chris," he said.
But he was frowning slightly as he said it, and she was quick to note the fact. "Ah! don't be vexed with me," she pleaded very earnestly. "I know I'm foolish. I can't help it. It's the way I'm made."