“Yes.”
“The first and the simplest,” he went on in the tone of voice which she had never quite fathomed—half cynical, half amused—“is to pretend that last night—never was.”
He waited for her verdict.
“We will not do that,” she replied softly; “we will take the other alternative, whatever it is.”
She glanced up half shyly beneath her lashes, and he felt that no difficulty could affright him.
“The other is generally supposed to be very difficult,” he said. “It means—waiting.”
“Oh,” she answered cheerfully, “there is no hurry. I do not want to be married yet.”
“Waiting perhaps for years,” he added—and he saw her face drop.
“Why?”
“Because I am dependent on my father for everything. We could not marry without his consent.”