"You are not bound at all," Grace interrupted. "You are free—as free as air—as free as I am. Are you determined not to understand me? Since you are free, there is no obstacle, in Heaven or on earth, to your wishes."
His passage from despair to sudden hope was so violent that he grasped the desk for support. "What?—Then?—You—you—Grace, would you—But— "
"You are free," said Grace, "and since Mr. Clinton's treachery, I do not consider myself bound."
"Grace!" he cried wildly, "Grace—star of my soul—go with me, go with me, fly with me in a week—darling. Let us arrange it for to-morrow."
"No. I will not go with you, unless you take me now."
"Now? Immediately?" he gasped, bewildered.
"Without once turning back," she returned. "There's a train in something like an hour."
"For ever?" He was delirious. "And you are to be mine—Grace, you are to be mine—my very own!"
"Yes. But you are never to see Fran again."
"Do I want to see her again? But Grace, if we stay here until train- time, Bob will come and—er—and find us—I don't want to meet Bob."