"Oh," said Marjorie, smiling a little. Then she remembered, her eyes falling on the yellow paper Francis still held. There was still much to be settled between them.
"But, as you were saying about Mr. Logan——"
"I was saying a lot I hadn't any business to about Mr. Logan," said
Francis frankly.
"Then it's all right?" said Marjorie. "At least as far as you're concerned?"
He nodded.
"Well," said she most unfairly, "it isn't, as far as I am. Francis, I don't think we'd better think any more of ever trying to be married to each other. It's too hard on the nervous system."
Francis colored deeply.
"What do you want to do?" he demanded.
Marjorie paused a minute before she answered. The truth was, she didn't know. She had definitely given up her New York position. She liked it up here, very much indeed. She liked the O'Maras and the house, and she was wild to get outdoors and explore the woods. Leaving Francis out of the question, she was freer than she had been for years. Altogether it was a bit hard to be entirely moved by lofty considerations. She wanted to stay; she knew that.
"Canada's a nice place," she began, dimpling a little and looking up at
Francis from under her eyelashes.