“Hush!”
The conversation was carried on in a low tone, and then May exclaimed:
“Oh, impossible!”
“It is not,” he said eagerly. “It is simplicity itself.”
He whispered again, and May Burnett shook her head.
“I implore you,” he whispered. “You know all I feel, but you are as hard and cold as you are beautiful. There, I swear if you do not consent, I’ll—”
“Pistols, or off the pier?” said May, with a provoking smile.
“Oh, you are maddening!” he exclaimed. “I believe you would like to see me lying dead.”
“Oh, no; I don’t like to see dead people,” she said mockingly.
“All these weary months, and not one short interview. You are playing with me. Curse him!”