He glanced at her very tenderly.
“You needn’t hold me off, darling. But it’s such a short time. And there’s nothing in the world as wise as to seize the cup of joy when it’s full. There’s an undiscoverable leak in that cup and it empties if you dawdle over it. It may be accident—death—or human perversity—almost anything. I’m so sure our cup is full now that I want to drink it with you quickly. Listen—there’s nothing in the world against it except that some person whom neither of us cares about at all might say we weren’t considered—were too hasty. For the sake of that obscure person whom we don’t know, you aren’t going to send me away, are you?”
She was hesitant.
“It doesn’t trouble you longer that I came out here to see Margaret Duffield, does it?”
“A little,” she answered honestly.
“It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t and it mustn’t. With her it was all argument and all tangle—with you it was like a flash of light.”
“I don’t want her to matter,” said Freda, “I always have wanted my love to come like this. Without question. Fearlessly.”
“Then you will, darling?”
“I don’t care about the rest, but there’s father. I hate to not tell him.”
“Will he hate it when you’re happy?”