"Why? Is he married?"
Her head inclined slowly. She was quite pale with emotion now, living into her part thoroughly.
"Then I'll drive the dirty whelp out of town. Pat, you're not going to leave this room until you tell me."
"Real old mellerdrammer stuff," thought Pat. Sadly she said:
"What's the use, Bobs? I'll never tell. He'd marry me if he could. Oh, you needn't go guessing," she added hastily. "You've never seen or heard of him. Word of honour."
He went over to the window and stood, staring out into the soft, grey drizzle of an early thaw. When he turned to her his face was set in a still resolution.
"Pat, you're absolutely certain that he can't marry you?"
"Absolutely," returned Pat, with the conviction of truth.
"Then, will you marry me?"