“You can’t go home; Grace expects us to stop at her house; they’ll all be there in half an hour.”
“Sorry, but I must skip. You run along like a good boy, and I’ll hop on the trolley. I must be home by five, and I’ll just about make it.”
“That’s not treating Grace right, to say nothing of me!” he expostulated. “I’m getting sick of all this dodging and ducking. I’m coming up to the house to-morrow and have it out with Farley.”
“You’re a nice boy, Billy, but you’re not going to do anything foolish,” she replied.
He found the kindness of this—even its note of fondness—unsatisfying. He read into it a skepticism that was not flattering.
“We’ve been fooling long enough about this; we’ve got to announce our engagement and be done with it.”
“But, Billy, we’re not engaged! We’re just the best of friends. Why should we stir up a big fuss by getting engaged?”
“What’s got into you, anyhow!” he exclaimed, eyeing her angrily. “This talk about not being engaged doesn’t go! I’m getting tired of all this nonsense—being kicked about and held off when I’ve staked everything I’ve got on you.”
“You mean,” she said steadily, “that you divorced your wife, thinking I would marry you; and now you’re angry because I’m not in a hurry about it, and don’t want to trouble papa, who has been kinder to me than anybody else ever was—”
“For God’s sake, don’t cry here! We’ve been talked about enough; I don’t understand what’s got into you to-day.”