Randall took her hands. “I'm not joking, darling. I'm asking you to marry me. Will you?”
“No, of c-course not!” said Stella, wondering why her knees had begun to shake.
Randall held her hands for a minute longer, and then let them go and moved away towards the door. Stella looked after him with deep misgiving. “Are—are you going?” she faltered.
“As you see.”
“But—but you can't leave me—us—like this!”
“Which do you mean?” asked Randall. “Me, or us?”
“Us! All of us! You can't surely —”
“Oh yes, I can!” said Randall coolly, and laid his hand on the door-knob.
Stella said in some agitation: “I'm not going to be blackmailed into marrying you!”
He turned his head, and surveyed her enigmatically. “What do you want?” he asked. “If you are worrying about your mother's probable arrest, let me assure you that the police are now far more likely to arrest me.”