"I wanted to see you so much, Larry," she said. "I have been so blue and depressed since I—since we—since we last met. Why didn't you call?"
"I only reached the city last night," he replied as he took a seat beside her on a divan. "And—well, Helen, I hardly thought you would wish to see me."
"You foolish boy," she chided. "Don't you know yet that you must never take a girl at her word? Of course, I was annoyed to find you playing baseball with a professional team, but I didn't mean we never were to meet again."
"I thought your ultimatum settled all that," he answered, ill at ease. "It was rather a shock to find that you cared more for what I was than for what I am."
"You know, Larry, that you placed me in a painful position. It isn't as if I were a rich girl, able to share with the man I love. My father and mother are not rich, and Uncle Barney has supplied me with everything. He has spoiled me—and I would make a wretched wife for a poor man."
"I would not have proposed marriage," said McCarthy quietly, "unless I had thought I would be able to provide for you as well as your uncle could. When circumstances were changed I could not ask you to sacrifice yourself unless you were willing—unless you cared enough for me to adapt yourself to the circumstances."
"But, Larry, aren't you going to quit all this foolishness and go back? Haven't you been reconciled with Mr. Lawrence?" she asked in surprise.
"I expect to go back after the season is over and tell him how sorry I am that I caused him trouble."
"Please go, Larry. You'll go to please me, won't you?" she said appealingly.
"I cannot see why it would please you to have me quit now, when I'm most needed," he replied stiffly. "Surely you cannot know what you are asking."