“Oh, I’m a gentleman, I am. I’m not going to tell any lies. If I said so, I must have been half cracked.”
“So you were—with love. I’ve got four letters that say so when you wanted me to go to London and get married.”
“Yes, I must have been mad, Molly. It’s been like a nightmare to me ever since. I wish I’d never seen you.”
“Oh, oh, oh!” began the pretty little bicyclist, beginning to sob. “Has it come to this so soon?”
“Don’t—don’t—don’t cry. The servants’ll hear you.”
“I—I—I can’t help it, Syd. Oh, dear, dear! You’ve broke my heart.”
“No, I haven’t, darling. There, there. Kisses’ll mend the place. There—and there—and there.”
“But you’re sorry you met me, and you don’t love me a bit. If I’d known what getting married meant you wouldn’t have caught me running off on the sly.”
“Don’t—don’t cry, I tell you,” cried the boy, passionately. “I didn’t mean it. You know that I love you awfully, only a man can’t help saying things when he’s in such a mess. You don’t know what my aunt is.”
“And you don’t know what my father is.”