“I shall never love you any more than I love you now, Freddy—never so much, perhaps, as at this moment.”
“I know, Lyddy; I know,” he said dully.
“If you insist, I will marry you to-morrow; but you cannot—you will not ask it of me, will you?”
“But you know I do love you,” he cried. “There isn't any doubt in your mind, Lyddy. There is no one else I tell you.”
“I think I am just beginning to understand men,” she remarked enigmatically.
“And to wonder why they call women the weaker sex, eh?”
“Yes,” she said, so seriously that the wry smile died on his lips. “I don't believe there are many women who would ask a man to be sorry for them. That's really what all this amounts to, isn't it, Freddy?”
“By Jove!” he exclaimed wonderingly.
“You are a strong, self-willed, chivalrous man, and yet you think nothing of asking a woman to protect you against yourself; You are afraid to stand alone. Wait! You need me because you are a strong man and are afraid that your very strength will lead you into ignoble warfare. You are afraid of your strength, not of your weakness. So you ask me to help you. Without thinking, you ask me to marry you to-morrow. The idea came to you like a flash of light in the darkness. Five minutes—yes, one minute before you asked it of me, Freddy dear, you were floundering in the darkness, uncertain which way to turn. You were afraid of the things you could not see. You looked for some place in which to hide. The flash of light revealed a haven of refuge. So you asked me to to marry you to-morrow.”
All through this indictment she had held his hand clasped tightly in both of hers. He was looking at her with a frank acknowledgment growing in his eyes.