“So much the better. We have made up our minds that we can’t live without each other, so we must be married somehow. You don’t think it’s not—what shall I say?—not quite like a girl for me to talk in this way, do you? We have talked of it so often, and we decided so long ago!”
“What nonsense! Be as plain as possible.”
“Because if you do—then I shall have to write it all to you, and I can’t write well.”
Ralston smiled.
“Go on,” he said. “I’m waiting for the reasons.”
“They could simply starve us, Jack. We’ve neither of us a dollar in the world.”
“Not a cent,” said Ralston, very emphatically. “If we had, we shouldn’t be where we are.”
“And your mother can’t give you any money, and my father won’t give me any.”
“And I’m a failure,” Ralston observed, with sudden grimness and hatred of himself.
“Hush! You’ll be a success some day. That’s not the question. The point is, if we tried to get married openly, there would be horrible scenes first, and then war, and starvation afterwards. It’s not a pretty prospect, but it’s true.”