“I am not ready to get married, and I simply will not be married just yet,” declared the girl, her red lips compressed.
“You don't love me!” complained Dodd.
“I like you, Richard,” admitted the girl, frankly, without any coquettishness. “I have never cared for anybody else. You have been good to me, except when you were foolish.”
“Foolishness—that's what she calls being so much in love with her that I can't keep my hands off her,” said Dodd to the mother. “Mother Kilgour, you haven't talked to Kate as you should. She doesn't know what love is.”
“Oh, I'll find out all about it, and then we'll be married—when I'm ready to become a wife,” said the girl, with an indulgent smile. “All at once I'll wake up, just as you have been begging me to do, and then we'll simply run away and be married and live happily for ever after.”
“I don't like this stalling,” growled Dodd, brutally.
“I'll leave you two children together,” said the mother. “I'm sure you'll come to an understanding.” She went away, showing relief.
“Sit down here on the divan with me, sweetheart,” pleaded the young man.
But without removing her hat she went to the piano and began to play.
“Please come!” he entreated.