"Because I haven't heard from him lately, and I must know—I must know"—she spoke with rising agitation—"the reason why. He might be—I don't say it is likely, but he might be—on his way home to me. I can't—I can't give him up without knowing."
Preston grimaced wryly, but he was shrewd enough to grasp and hold such advantage as was his. "Well, failing him, you'll have me, what? That's a promise, is it?"
She looked at him again. "If you want me under those conditions."
He put his arms about her. "Of course I want you, Cherry-ripe! We'd be awfully happy together, you and I. I'll soon make you forget him, if that's all. You can't be very deeply in love with the fellow after all this time. I don't suppose he's in the least the sort of person you take him for. You're wastin' your time over a myth. Come, it's settled, isn't it? We're engaged."
He pressed her closer. He bent to kiss her, but she turned her face away. His lips only found her neck, but he made the most of that. She had to exert her strength to free herself.
"No," she said. "We're not engaged. We can't be engaged—until I have heard from Guy."
He suppressed a short word of impatience. "And suppose you don't hear?" he asked.
She made a blind movement with her hands. "Then—-I give in."
"You will marry me?" he insisted.
"If you like," she answered drearily. "I expect you will very soon get tired of me."