"No, no, you must not say it—or think it."
"I'm going to think it, and so are you. I defy you to forget it. You may see that lawyer Westcott every day, and no matter what you're saying to him, every once in a while will bob up the thought—Midsummer Day!"
"Hush! I won't listen! Please skate faster!"
"You shall listen—to just one thing more. Just halfway between now and Midsummer may I come to see you—just once?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because—I shall not want to see you."
"That's good," said he steadily. "Then let me tell you that I should not come even if you would let me. I wanted you to know that."
A little, half-smothered laugh came from her in spite of herself, in which he rather grimly joined. Then the others, calling questions and reproaches, bore down upon them, and the evening for Richard Kendrick was over. But the fight he meant to win was just begun.