“Never take anything for granted where there are big things at stake. But what are we to do? I’m going to marry you to-morrow evening at seven o’clock over in Fig Tree Church, but what is to be done with Fanny? She’s all fixed for tragedy, and there’s no knowing just what a girl of that sort might do. I don’t care to begin our life with a horror. You must take her in hand to-morrow morning and talk her into reason. I gave her to understand that I didn’t love her, but a man has to say a thing of that sort so decently that a girl never believes him—particularly a girl like Fanny, who has a sublime confidence in herself I’ve never seen equalled. What’s to be done? What’s to be done?”
“Are you quite sure that you love me, that you haven’t really wavered —”
“Oh, lord! I’m more mad about you than ever.”
“Would you have married Fanny if you had met her first?”
“There’s no woman on earth I should ever have wanted to marry but you. Do you fancy a man thinks of marriage with every girl he puts in his time with? I’ve had a dozen flirtations—as hard and a good deal longer than this; and neither of us the worse, I may add. I’m no heart-breaker. Our girls know the game too well.”
“If I thought you were merely bent upon being honorable —”
“Julia, if I didn’t love you, I’d tell you so. Do you suppose I’m the man to jump into matrimony blindfolded? I’ve seen too many of my friends marry—and divorce four years later. I’m no candidate for the divorce court. What I want is a wife I can love and work with for the rest of my life. That wife is you, or will be this time to-morrow night. So cut all that out and set your wits to work.”
Julia moved her eager eyes from his face and looked out over the sea. She did not speak for several moments, and Tay saw her face set and grow whiter, her eyes shine until they looked like polished steel.
“Leave Fanny to me,” she said finally. “I’ll dispose of her. She will give no further trouble.”
Tay stirred uneasily. “Oh—you don’t mean—That is hardly fair —”