"Then we'll go down tomorrow for licenses? We'll have our check-ups, and...."
"No," she moaned, "no, no, no."
He drew her against him. She tried to turn her lips away, but she did not want to, and then it was too late, and there was nothing she could do.
She forced him back. "Wait," she said. "I love you," she said. "Listen, you've got to do this. Listen. You've got to meet me tonight. At the library. At ... at ... nine o'clock." She took a deep breath. "You've got to do that."
"What's...."
She turned.
"Margy!"
Without daring to look back, she said, "Don't come any farther. Wait until tonight." Inside, she was crying and hurt and desperate and ashamed. Most of all, ashamed. Her nails dug into her palms until she felt the sharp pain. What can I do? she thought. I won't go. I'll ... I'll ... I won't go. I'll leave.... There was a thin trickle of warmness across the inside of her hand.
But she knew that she would go, deeply, she knew that. And she was in love with him, and life was unfair, so terribly unfair, so unfair beyond all imagining.