“Let me go at once, I tell you. I’m not in the mood for fun. I can’t bear it.”
Her face was deathly white, her blue eyes flashing, but he would not let her go.
“This is no fun, but earnest,” he said, with sudden gravity. “Listen, darling—I love you. Of course you know that already, but will you love me in return—will you promise to be Frank’s little wife?”
The honest, manly tone left no room for doubt. Thea stared at him in angry disgust.
“You are crazy, too—as crazy as Tom!” she cried, indignantly. “And to think how I fooled myself! I loved you like a brother, and all the while you had this foolishness in your mind. Why, Frank Hinton, I wouldn’t marry a king—there now!”
“I know; but maybe you will marry me,” said the young fellow, pleadingly. “I love you so dearly, Sweetheart, and I certainly thought you encouraged me. You made so much of me—you seemed to enjoy being with me so much, and—”
“Oh, hush!” she interrupted, eagerly. “I am sorry, Frank; indeed, I am sorry, for now I see that you have deceived yourself. I am fond of you—just as Emmie is, you know—that kind of a love; but if I loved you that other way,” trippingly, “I—I—don’t think I should make so much of you. I mean, I—I—don’t think I’d want you to guess my—my—feelings,” blushing as if with some subtle perception of the master-passion her innocent heart had never known.
“Go away, you miserable little flirt! I feel like I hated you!” Frank cried, flinging the white hand roughly from him, and turning away in bitter anger.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Thea did not wait for a second bidding from her indignant lover. She ran hurriedly out of the open door, and in her haste almost fell over Emmie, who had been listening outside. They both paused, and Thea cried out, scornfully: