“You are not angry with me, dear?”
“No,” she said gently; “I am sorry.”
“Why?”
“For you. See how the world will sneer.”
“What!” he cried eagerly. “Then you will?”
She looked at him searchingly, as if a lingering doubt were there, and a shadow of suspicion were making her try to see if he was truly in earnest.
“No, no,” she said, as a sob burst from her lips; “it is impossible.” And she struggled hard to get away.
“Impossible!” he said, as he tightened his grasp. “Tell me one thing, Mary. You knew I loved you?”
She nodded quickly.
“And—you don’t think me ridiculous?”