CHAPTER VII
THEY HAD ALREADY SPOILED HER!
Gail faltered when, after bidding good-night to her uncle and to Allison, she turned and met the look in Howard Clemmens’ eyes. She knew that the inevitable moment had arrived. He walked straight up to her, and there was a new dignity in him, a new strength, a new resolve. For a moment, as he advanced, she thought that he was about to put his arms around her, but he did not. Instead, he took her hand, in his old characteristic way, and led her into the library, and seated her on the couch, and sat beside her.
“Gail, come home with me,” he said, authoritative but kind. He had been her recognised suitor from childhood. He had shut out all the other boys.
She withdrew her hand, but without deliberate intent. She had felt the instinctive and imperative need of touching her two hands together in her lap.
“You’re asking something impossible, Howard,” she returned, quietly. Her voice was low, and her beautiful brown eyes, half veiled by their long lashes, were watching the play of light in a ruby on one of her fingers. She was deep in abstracted thought, struggling vaguely with problems which he could not know, and of which she herself was as yet but dimly conscious.
“Come home, and marry me.” Perfectly patient, perfectly confident, perfectly gentle. He reached for her hand again, and took them both, still clasped, in his own. “Gail, we’ve waited quite long enough. It’s not doing either one of us any good for you to be here. The best thing is for us to be married right now.”
For the first time she turned her eyes full upon him.
“You are taking a great deal for granted, Howard,” and she wore a calm decision which he had not before seen in her. “There has never been any agreement between us.”
“There has been an understanding,” he retorted, releasing her unresponsive hands and looking her squarely in the eyes, with a slight frown on his brow.
“Never,” she incisively reminded him, and her piquant chin pointed upwards. “I’ve always told you that I could make no promises.”