"And do you mean to continue doing this—this—kind of thing, Miss Castlemaine?"
"Yes, I think so."
"What, when you get married?"
"I shall never marry."
Herbert Briarfield looked at her steadily. For the last three years he had been a suitor for Olive Castlemaine's hand, and although she had given him no encouragement, he had never given up hope that he would one day win her. Moreover, so certain was he that he would one day succeed, that he had almost unconsciously assumed a kind of proprietary right over her.
"Of course you will marry," he said, "and then you will think differently. Your first duties then will be to your husband—and to—to your position."
Olive Castlemaine did not reply. He had so often expressed this kind of sentiment, that she did not think it worth while.
"Miss Castlemaine," continued Herbert Briarfield, "you will not be offended if I speak plainly, will you?"
"I am not likely to be offended with my friends, Mr. Briarfield," she said, "but there is one subject that should be debarred. You know very well that I have made up my mind."
"Let no subject be debarred, Miss Castlemaine. It is not right that it should be. If there were some one else, of course I should have to regard your refusal as inevitable. But there is no one else—is there?"