Mollie laughed out musically, although she drew herself away from him with an unmistakable chill in her manner.
"Pray, do not be disturbed," she said lightly, "for I assure you that I enjoy my 'wages,' as you term them, immensely."
"But the humiliation of it," he persisted hotly; "to think of it!—you, who are fit to queen it anywhere, becoming the servant of any one!"
"I have no sense of humiliation, Philip. I frankly protest that I never in my life experienced a more comforting sense of self-respect than at the present time," Mollie spiritedly rejoined, and with a warning sparkle in her eyes.
"But there is no need of it," he insisted.
"There is every need," she briefly, but gravely, replied.
"No, no, Mollie; surely you have not forgotten the old days," he broke forth vehemently; "you cannot have forgotten the question which I asked you a year and a half ago, and which you have never answered. Need I tell you that I still love you with all my heart?—that I yearn for you, in spite of the little misunderstanding and interruption to our correspondence? Mollie, dearest, give up this position; let me provide for you hereafter—let me stand between you and the necessity for toil; give yourself to me—you shall have every wish gratified, and I will become your protector and—your slave."
CHAPTER VI.
A STARTLING PROPOSAL.
Mollie grew first red, then white, at this unexpected renewal of Philip's suit. At the same time, she was conscious that it did not ring quite true, in spite of his passionate avowal of love and eagerness of manner; there was an indefinable undercurrent of reservation—a lack of sincerity in it that impressed her unpleasantly.