"And you are asking me to release you?"
"I am not," he said very firmly. "I am asking you to give me—a leave of absence."
Some unknown power seemed to put the words into my mouth, for I was not conscious of any effort toward thinking.
"But I release you, Richard. I could not be—mixed up in that kind of thing."
He sprang from his chair and caught me violently in his arms.
"That's just what you're not going to do. You are mine. You are going to stick to me."
"I said that I would stick to you if you were a horse-thief," I said slowly. "—But not—this."
"Oh, Ann, you are breaking my heart," he cried, as he caught me close to him and buried his head on my shoulder. "You can't mean to throw me over."
"You are kind to put it that way, Richard," I said.
"You are a sensible girl," he exclaimed suddenly as he raised his head and looked at me again. "You must listen to reason and do exactly as I tell you in this matter. Then all will be well. The affair will be nothing more than a make-believe between us all, for Major Blake knows that I do not love the poor, homely, half-dead creature; the betrothal will have no more feeling in it than a stage kiss. The only deception you will have to practise will be to announce your own engagement to some one else this week, so that—"