“And you decided——”
“It’s this way, Jim,” said Nancy slowly, as if choosing her words very carefully. “I’m going to be perfectly frank. I—I care a lot for you, and just now I’m sure I’d never want to marry anyone else. But it seems to me that we would be foolish to tie ourselves up with an engagement just now, when we both have a whole year more at college. The senior year is a very important one, and we’ve got to be deciding what we want to do after we finish, and make preparations for work of some kind.”
“We could do all that just the same even if we were engaged,” protested Jim.
“Yes, but suppose this last year you should meet some other girl you care a lot for——”
“I won’t,” said Jim decidedly.
“You can’t be absolutely sure, Jim; and while I think there is no danger of my meeting anyone who could take your place, such a thing is, after all, a possibility, if not a probability. Just think! A month ago we had never even seen each other! We have known each other such a short time, and under such unusual conditions, don’t you really, way down in your heart, think that it would be wiser, safer, for both of us to go back to our old normal familiar lives for this one year, unfettered?”
“I see what you mean, even if I can’t enthuse over it very much.”
“Don’t misunderstand me—dear,” faltered Nancy, for Jim’s tone was rather hurt. “It’s frightfully hard for me to take this stand; but I feel that it is the right one, and—” her voice broke pathetically.
“Please—Nan,” begged Jim, “don’t. Fix things up to suit yourself, and I’ll do whatever you wish.”
“We can write regularly, that is, if you want to.”