“Suppose I had. What would you have done?”
“Got off at the next station. Jumped out of the window. Anything!”
“And have been alone in some strange place with nobody to look after you? If you’d done that, I should have felt obligated to get off, too.”
“You wouldn’t!” Darcy stamped her foot. “You haven’t any right.”
“When a lady puts a claim on a gentleman as her husband,” remonstrated Remsen mildly, “while he may not have the right to prevent her from jumping out of the window of a moving train, at least he may use all fair means to see her through.”
“Do you think you’ve been fair in this?”
“Kamerad! I surrender! I don’t! The plain fact is, I knew you’d run away if I told you, and I couldn’t bear to lose you, after I’d miraculously found you again.”
“Consequently,” she accused, “I am here where the girls are sure to find me, married and without a husband, or with a husband that they’ll discover is bogus. What am I going to do?”
“List to an inspired idea! I’ve just thought it out. When you see your friends, tell them that I didn’t get off the train at all. I went right on to Montreal.”
“And deserted your bride?”