"Indiana," he said, tenderly, placing his hand on her head, "do you remember the day I asked you to be my wife? Do you forget already the condition upon which you accepted me?"
"What condition?" asked Indiana, innocently.
"That I should not give in."
"Oh!" exclaimed Indiana, falling back on the sofa. If he brought up that justification, there was no longer any ground to argue upon.
"I have never in my life broken my word once given. This is our first difference. I must keep my promise to you. No matter how much I suffer, I will not give in." He tucked her in the rug again, extinguished the lamp, and left the room.
CHAPTER XVI.
An Escapade
Indiana, lying in the dark, tossed restlessly. Scattered scenes and personages of her old life and the new, floated through her mind, jumbled in a rare confusion. She counted and multiplied to induce sleep. Finally she thought of the formula children repeat when they play hide-and-seek—
"'Ena, mino, mina, mo,
Catch a nigger by the toe.
If he hollers let him go.
Ena, mino, mina, mo.
You're it—I'm out!'"
"Out of everything," she added, with a sob. "Oh, I can't sleep!" She tossed the pillows about desperately, feeling nervous and irritable, angry with herself, angry with Thurston and her family. The room was suddenly lit from the lamp on the centre-table. Indiana's dazzled eyes saw a tall figure standing before her. "Glen!"