“But your father—”
“He will not object. Why should he? Is he not Oluski’s best friend?”
“Yes, they are friends, but still—”
Warren saw that the girl was nervous and alarmed. He lost no time in reassuring her.
“And, after all, dearest, we need not tell them of our love until we are sure of their consent. In the meantime, let us think only of ourselves. You have not yet told me what I longed to hear.”
“What is that?”
“The whispering assurance that your heart is mine?”
A painful struggle was evidently taking place in the maiden’s breast. Filial duty and self-reproach contended with that feeling, nurtured by the soft blandishments of the scoundrel by her side.
In such a contest love is always the victim.
This case was not exceptional. Softly murmuring the young man’s name, Sansuta hid her head upon his shoulder.