“We had better go back,” he said. They walked across the moonlit grass, white flowers stood out starlike in the beds, and the band was playing very softly an air out of Hansel and Grethel. Suddenly he exclaimed, “You might have spared me this!”
“How?”
“You might have let me know I had no chance.”
“Why did you take it for granted that you had?” Miss Arbuthnot retorted coldly.
“Oh, why?” He flung the question back at her, and strode moodily on. But at the door he turned once more. “Do you really intend to marry him?”
“The wedding-day is fixed.”
“Absurd!” he cried roughly.