The pallor made her in the moonlight look almost unearthly, and he was obliged to bend his eyes resolutely away from her, during the pause that ensued.
"Then you—then you meant nothing by it?" she stammered.
"No. At least—oh, well—of course you know that I love you, but I quite agree with you that to marry a penniless young beggar like me would be madness——"
She was so amazed, so honestly horrified by his cynical cold-bloodedness that for a moment she could not speak.
"How—how can I marry him after that?" she gasped.
"Oh, quite easily, dear. You forgive me, and I will forgive you and we will both blame—the moon," he waved his hand, "and the roses," and then she broke down.
"I can't, I can't," she wailed, "you know I can't. Oh, Oliver, if you love me you must marry me."
Wick, though deeply stirred, held his ground.
"I don't see any must," he said morosely, and at last his triumph came.