“Most certainly not,” said Marguerite, turning on her heel, and leaving the young man to finish his walk alone.
(“And then,” said Harley, with a chuckle, “Parker’s manhood would assert itself in spite of all I could do. He made an answer, which I wrote down.”
“I see,” said I, “but you’ve scratched it out. What was that line?”
“‘“Thank the Lord!” said Parker to himself, as Miss Andrews disappeared around the corner,’” said Stuart Harley. “That’s what I wrote, and I flatter myself on the realism of it, for that’s just what any self-respecting hero would have said under the circumstances.”
A silence came over us.
“Do you wonder I’ve given it up,” asked Stuart, after a while.
“Yes,” said I, “I do. Such opposition would nerve me up to a battle royal. I wouldn’t give it up until I’d returned from Barnegat, if I were you,” I added, anxious to have him renew his efforts; for an idea had just flashed across my mind, which, although it involved a breach of faith on my part, I nevertheless believed to be good and justifiable, since it might relieve Stuart Harley of his embarrassment.
“Very well,” I rejoiced to hear him say. “I won’t give it up until then, but I haven’t much hope after that last chapter.”
So Harley went to Barnegat, after destroying his letter to Messrs. Herring, Beemer, & Chadwick, whilst I put my breach of faith into operation.)