The words came muffled from his shoulder; she was clinging to him almost convulsively.
"But we can't, Chris," he said, his quiet voice coming through her agitation with a patience so immense that it seemed to dwarf even her distress. "At least, dear, you can go and live there if you wish, but I can't. Perhaps I am not indispensable."
"No, no!" she said quickly, as though the suggestion hurt her. "I want you."
"Then I am afraid you will have to marry me," he said. "We won't have a big wedding. It shall be as private as you like. I suppose you will want your brothers to be there."
"Why can't we run away together and get married all by ourselves?" suggested Chris. She raised her head and regarded him with sudden animation. "Wouldn't it be fun?" she said. "You could come for me in the motor, and we could fly off to some out-of-the-way village and be married before anyone knew anything about it. There would be no one to gloat over us and make silly jokes, no horrid show at all. Trevor," her face flashed into gaiety once more, "I'll go with you to-morrow!"
He smiled at her eagerness. "If I were to agree to that, you would run away in the night."
"Run away from you!" said Chris. She wound her arm swiftly about his neck. "As if I should!" she said reproachfully.
He looked at her, baffled in spite of his determination to understand.
"You wouldn't want to do that, then?" he said.
She nestled to him with a gesture most winning. "Never, never, unless—"
"Unless—?" he repeated.