Jerce was puzzled how to reply. He knew next to nothing about Captain Ackworth. "He doesn't look as if he had brains."
"Ah! Looks are deceptive sometimes. Now you, doctor, look as though you had common sense, yet your conversation at present doesn't reveal that quality."
"You are hard, Clarice."
"I thought that you were not going to call me Clarice until you had the right?"
"I wish to acquire the right."
"It is too late. Come, doctor," said Clarice, tired of this quibbling, "it is useless to prolong this conversation. There are more important things to talk about than my marriage, which, after all--as I have reminded you--is entirely my own affair. Let us agree to be friends," and she held out her hand, smiling.
Jerce did not take it. "I can be nothing less than your husband," he said, drawing down his long upper lip obstinately.
"In that case, doctor, we may as well part for ever."
"For ever?" Jerce started to his feet, much agitated. "Oh, Clarice, you don't mean that. I love you--I adore you--I worship you. No doubt it may seem ridiculous to you that a man of my age should speak like a schoolboy, and should show his deepest feelings so plainly. But I have had a lonely life, and you are all the world to me. Don't send me away without hope. Only say that some day--in some sweet hour--I can come and take your hand in mine."
Clarice rose also, and her eyes sparkled with anger. "You are mad to talk in this way," she cried, passionately. "How can I say what you want me to say, when I am engaged, and when I love?"