“Peter!”
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you remember the night in Anna's room at the Schwartz when you proposed to me?”
No reply. Peter found another pin.
“And that night in the old lodge when you proposed to me again?”
Peter turned and looked at her, at her slender, swaying young figure, her luminous eyes, her parted, childish lips.
“Peter, I want you to—to ask me again.”
“No!”
“Why?”
“Now, listen to me, Harmony. You're sorry for me, that's all; I don't want to be pitied. You stay here and work. You'll do big things. I had a talk with the master while I was searching for you, and he says you can do anything. But he looked at me—and a sight I was with worry and fright—and he warned me off, Harmony. He says you must not marry.”