She smiled wisely.
"Oh, you can smile; but, my dear Helena, the apron-string won't do for a man who is thirty years old. Yes, they'll do as they choose, in spite of either you or me—and I know what it will be!"
"Poor Blair," she said, sighing. "Robert, if she leaves him you will be kind to him, won't you? He's never had a chance—"
But he was not thinking of Blair; he was looking into her face, and his own face moved with emotion: "Helena, don't be obstinate any longer. We have so little time left! I don't ask you to love me, but just marry me, Helena."
"Oh, my dear Robert—"
"Will you?"
"If I lived here," she said breathlessly, "my boy could not come to see me."
"Is that the reason you won't say yes?"
She was silent.
"Will you?" he said again.