He rose from his seat pale with wrath and wounded feeling.
"Does this mean that you refuse me?" he demanded, "that your answer is 'no'?"
She rose, too—not exultant, not confused, neither pale nor flushed. He had never seen her prettier, more charming, or more natural.
"It would have been 'no,' even if there hadn't been any obstacle," she answered.
"Then," he said, "I need say no more. I see that I have—humiliated myself in vain; and it is rather bitter, I must confess."
"It wasn't my fault," she remarked.
He stepped back, with a haughty wave of the hand, signifying that she should pass out of the arbor before him.
She did so; but just as she reached the entrance, she turned, and stood for a second, framed in by the swinging vines and their blossoms.
"There's another reason why it should be 'no,'" she said. "I suppose I may as well tell you of it. I'm engaged to somebody else."