"Brownie, willful, teasing little fairy that you are—you cannot, you will not deny that you love me—can you, honestly, now?"
"I have not denied it—have I?" her gaze falling before his.
"Not in so many words, perhaps; but you refuse to be my wife—if you loved me, how could you?"
"If I loved you I would still refuse."
"Brownie, why?"
"Because——"
"That is a woman's reason. Give me a better one."
"How can I, a woman, give you a better one?" she answers, evasively, tilting the brim of her hat a little further over her face. She does not want him to see the white and red flushes hotly coming and going.
"Because a better one is due me," he persists, his earnestness strengthened by her refusal. "Surely, a man, when he lays his heart, and hand, and fortune at a lady's feet, deserves a better reason for his refusal than 'because.'"
Her cheek dimples archly a moment, but she brightens as she says, almost inaudibly: