“Please——” whispered Betty in dismay.
“And you don’t mind if I’m poor? And you’ll marry me, Betty?”
He was covering her hands with kisses.
“I’m going to study very hard, dear,” he went on breathlessly, exultantly. “And I’ll make money—lots of it—somehow, you know! You will marry me, Betty? Dear, darling Betty!”
“Perhaps—some day,” murmured Betty.
“Betty! And—Betty, dear!—please say that you love me!”
But Betty jumped from the chair before he could stop her and turned to him with very crimson cheeks and shining eyes.
“Phil,” she said, “will you do what I ask you?”
“Anything!” He strove to reach her, but she kept the chair between.