"You can't mean that you think you'll marry!" he rejoined, still unconvinced. "What decent fellow would marry you after you've lived with me for four years?"
"There are other ways," Lilly repeated obstinately.
He seemed relieved, but went on: "I don't half like leaving you here to mope alone. You'll get depressed, and then you'll be nasty to me. What do you say to having a little change somewhere? You might go to Ahlbeck or Screiberhau, or some strait-laced place like that."
Only by a slight quiver of the eyelids did she betray the scornful laughter that convulsed her inwardly.
"You know I hate making acquaintances," she answered lightly; "and in the midst of people who don't want me I feel doubly alone."
He relapsed into frowning meditation.
"Well, then," he hesitated, and drawled out his words as people do who are afraid of their own boldness, "then ... perhaps the best thing would be for you to come ... somewhere near."
"Near where?"
"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean."
"I do know, but I can hardly believe my ears."