“Of course not––goosey.” She laughed and was herself again, but he liked her better the other way. “To earn the money and then go. It––it––would be more––more as if you were in earnest.”
“My soul! Do you think I’m not in earnest? Do you think I’m not in love with you?”
Instantly she was serious and shy again. His heart leaped. He loved to feel his power over her thus. Still she tantalized him. “I’m not meaning about loving me. That’s not the question. I mean it would look more as if you were in earnest about becoming an artist.”
“No. The real question is, Do you love me? Will you marry me when I come back?” She was silent and he came nearer. “Say it. Say it. I must hear you say it before I leave.” Her lips trembled as if she were trying to form the words, and their eyes met.
“Yes––if––if––”
Then he caught her to him, and stopped her mouth with kisses. He did not know himself. He was a man he had never met the like of, and he gloried in himself. It seemed as if he heard bells ringing out in joy. Then he looked up and saw Mary Ballard’s eyes fixed on him.
“Peter Junior––what are you doing?” Her voice shook.
“I––I’m kissing Betty.”
“I see that.”