“Ten thousand times more, my darling, or I shouldn’t have been running horrible risks to-night to keep my appointment with you.”
“And you—you want to make me your wife, Richard—to share everything with you?”
“You know I do, darling,” he cried, in a low, hoarse whisper.
“Then, Dick, dear, it wouldn’t be proper respect to your future wife to take me there to your works at this time of night,” said the girl, simply, as she clung to him.
“Not when the streets are unsafe?” he cried.
“Let’s part now, directly,” said Daisy. “I would sooner die than any one should hurt you, Richard; but you’d never respect your wife if she had no respect for herself. Good night, Richard.”
“There, I was right,” he cried, petulantly, as he snatched himself away. “You do still care for Tom.”
“No, no, Dick, dear Dick. I don’t a bit,” sobbed the girl. “Don’t, pray don’t, speak to me like that.”
“Then will you come with me—only because it isn’t safe here?” whispered Richard.
“No, no,” sobbed the girl, firmly, “I can’t do that, and if you loved me as you said, you wouldn’t ask me.”