"Why, of course, Lilly, you'll get over it! It's natural for a young girl to feel—"
"No! No! My feeling won't lift! If only I had said nothing the night he—proposed. But mamma was waiting up. She—she pressed me so. It was so hard the way you put it. I know he's a fine fellow. I know, papa, he's thrown big orders in your way. But I can't help being what I am. Please, papa, let me off! Please!"
An actual shrinkage of face seemed to have taken place in Mrs. Becker.
"What'll we do? What'll we do, Ben?" she kept repeating, rocking herself back and forth in what seemed to border on dementia.
"You see, papa, it's only to be a small wedding. We could so easily call things off. I'll take all the blame—"
"No! No! No!"
"Mamma dear, I'm as sorry—about it as you are, but—"
"No! No! She's ruining our lives, Ben—disgracing—"
"Lilly, are you sure that you are telling us everything?"
"I swear it, papa. I know I'm inarticulate, I don't seem able to explain the terrible state I've been in for days—"