A sudden rush of tears blinded her eyes—she put her hands over them. He sprang up and, taking hold of her slender wrists, tried to draw those hands down. He succeeded at last, and looked wistfully into her face, quivering with restrained grief.
"Dear, I will do what you like!" he said. "Tell me—what is your wish?"
She waited a moment, till she had controlled herself a little.
"I thought"—she said, then—"that we might tell Dad just for to-night that we are engaged—it would make him happy—and perhaps in a week or two we might get up a quarrel together and break it off—"
Robin smiled.
"Dear little girl!—I'm afraid the plan wouldn't work! He wants the banns put up on Sunday—and this is Wednesday."
Her brows knitted perplexedly.
"Something can be managed before then," she said. "Robin, I cannot bear to disappoint him! He's old—and he's so ill too!—it wouldn't hurt us for one night to say we are engaged!"
"All right!"—and Robin threw back his head and laughed joyously—"I don't mind! The sensation of even imagining I'm engaged to you is quite agreeable! For one evening, at least, I can assume a sort of proprietorship over you! Innocent! I—I—"
He looked so mirthful and mischievous that she smiled, though the teardrops still sparkled on her lashes.