“‘Poor Tom—Mr Richard,’” said the young man, as if speaking to himself.
“Don’t, don’t, Mr Richard, please.”
“‘Mr Richard.’”
“Well, Dick, then. But there, I must go now.”
“Not just now, darling Daisy,” whispered Richard, passionately. “Come with me—here we are close by the door.”
“No, no, indeed I will not,” cried Daisy, firmly.
“Not when I tell you it isn’t safe for me to be in the streets at night, for fear some ruffian should knock out my brains?”
“Oh, Dick, dear Dick, don’t say so.”
“But I’m obliged to,” he said, trying to draw her along, but she still resisted.
“I wouldn’t have you hurt for the world,” she sobbed; “but, Richard—Dick, do you really, really love me as much as you have said?”