"Well, I—I don't mind much, so long as you don't think I—I was trying to—"
She stops, blushing furiously.
"Trying to what?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"I'll not let you leave the room until you finish that sentence," he says decisively.
"You are a tyrant! Trying—trying to catch you—there! Oh, why will you make me say such things?"
"Trying to catch me!" he exclaims vehemently. "Good gracious, child! how could I imagine such a thing?"
"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure!" she answers, floundering helplessly under the half-amused, half-bitter expression of his dark face. "They say all men are conceited, no matter what they're like, and—and Ellen Higgins says that—that a great many of the Kelvick girls had their eyes on you, but that—that Miss Challice made—made the running too hot for—Oh, what am I saying—what am I saying? Mr. Armstrong, don't mind me; I'm a light-headed fool—a regular fool! Bob always said I hadn't an ounce of ballast, and I haven't—I haven't! Let me go, let me go!"
"If I let you go like this, how do I know I shall ever get you back again?"
"You said you would give me until to-morrow to decide—you know you did."