He stopped short in the wooded path they were treading, and looked her gravely in the face—a look that forced an answer. She was equal to the occasion.
"Of course I do, Mr. Gardiner," she cried, with a jolly little laugh that sounded horrible in his ears. "And wasn't it romantic? Just like one of those stories one reads in those splendid French novels, I laughed——"
"Pray be serious, Miss Pendleton," cut in Gardiner, biting his lip fiercely to keep back an angry retort. "This is not a subject for merriment, I assure you, and I had hoped to have a sensible conversation with you concerning it—to show each of us a way out of it, if that is possible."
"I do not wish to be set free, as you phrase it, Mr. Gardiner," she answered, defiantly. "I am perfectly well pleased to have matters just as they are, I assure you."
His face paled; the one hope which had buoyed him up died suddenly in his heart.
Sally Pendleton's face flushed hotly; her eyes fell.
"I will try to win your liking," she replied.
"It is a man's place to win," he said, proudly; "women should be won," he added, with much emphasis. "When two people marry without love, they must run all the risk such a union usually incurs."
"Pardon me, but I may as well speak the truth; you are the last girl on earth whom I could love. It grieves me to wound you, but it is only just that you should know the truth. Now will you insist upon carrying out the contract?"
"As I have told you from the start, my answer will always be the same."