"You misunderstand," she said; "it is that I do not intend to have you do it."
He paused a moment, making an honest effort to range himself in line with her thought.
"Oh, come along," he began. But the young lady interrupted him with the same unwavering composure—
"You place me in an objectionable position," she declared, "by forcing me to explain. That is not considerate. You should meet me half-way; you should be beforehand so as to secure me against the annoyance of referring to all that. I had determined to sink it. But you make that impossible. It is derogatory to me to explain."
Laurence sat down on the arm of the nearest chair. He felt curiously helpless, and yet all the while he was getting the bit between his teeth. If obstinacy was about, well, he had his share of it. Across the Atlantic matters of such profound moment were awaiting him. It was difficult to reckon seriously and courteously with this unlooked-for opposition, and not to brush it impatiently aside. It seemed little short of ridiculous.
"I give you my word, Virginia, I don't know what you are talking about," he said. "I have the most cogent reasons for going over—you haven't given me an opportunity of stating them yet, but that doesn't alter the fact. It is necessary I should go; and after all, you know, I am not such a conceited ass as to imagine you can't do without me for three weeks or so."
"I am not thinking of myself, I am thinking of others," she remarked, with a certain naïveté.
Laurence smiled.
"Oh, in that case I can book my passage with a clear conscience," he said.
But the young lady continued:—