“Marry?” he exclaimed in a bewildered tone.
In all his acquaintance with Helen Baldwin the thought of marriage had not occurred to him. If it had it had been as a dream in the hazy future. Some day, of course, he would marry, but he never had thought of Helen Baldwin as his wife, nor of any girl.
“Yes,” she sobbed, “you must take me away.”
“But, Helen,” he protested, “we cannot do that.”
“We must,” she urged, half hysterically. “We can elope, go into the city and be married”——
“And what then?” he asked, his calmer common sense coming to the rescue. “Neither of us has anything—I cannot support a wife.”
“I’ve thought it all out,” she went on hurriedly. “We will be married. Then we will go and Major Lawrence will forgive us and I need never endure the hateful treatment I get here.”
“No,” said the boy slowly. “We cannot do that. I cannot treat Major Lawrence that way. I will ask his permission”——
“You must not do that,” she interrupted quickly. “He would separate us and we’d never see each other again.”
She buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed hysterically.