Margaret came in ready to go out. She wore a white dress and a black hat that drooped a little on one side with the heaviness of its trimming. There was a thin gold chain round her neck; he knew that the locket attached to it contained her mother's hair. He looked at her for a moment, at her blue eyes and proud lips, and her slim, tall figure, and his reticence went to the winds.
"I can't bear to think I am going to-night," he said.
"And I can't," she answered, almost without being aware of it.
Then it seemed as if fate took hold of him and forced him to speak. "Margaret," he said, and his tone brought the color to her face, "this can't go on; it will have to come to an end somehow. You know we like being together—it's glorious, isn't it? But—I have grown fond of you—I can't help it. I wonder if you like me, if you care for me—it would make everything so easy. I love you—more than anything in the world, and you always seem happy enough with me. Do you think you could stand it always. Cut the theatre, you know, and all that at once, and marry me?"
"Oh, Tom!" she said, and without any rhyme or reason she burst into tears and sat down on the little sofa, for it seemed as if the floodgates of heaven had opened and poured its happiness into her heart—just as it had seemed to her mother once in the best parlor at Woodside Farm.
"My darling!" he said, "My little darling, what is the matter?" He knelt down by her and pulled her hat-pin out. "Ghastly long thing," he said to himself, even in that moment, "enough to kill one." He stuck it into the back of the sofa, took off her hat and flung it—her best hat—to the other end of the room, and gathered her into his arms and kissed her. "Why, what are you crying for?" he asked. "I have not frightened you, have I?" But his tone was triumphant, for since she made no resistance he thought it must be all right, so he wisely went on kissing her, for there is nothing like making the most of an opportunity—especially a first one.
"Oh, you mustn't—you mustn't!" she said, afraid lest he should see the shame and the joy in her eyes.
"You know this is what it means," he said, holding her closer. "Why, we liked each other from the first, didn't we? Think what a spree we had that morning when we came here with the flowers."
"I know," she whispered; "but I can't be married."
"Why not?"