"Oh! please don't walk so fast," he said, in a tone of entreaty. "One can't talk when walking so fast."
"I don't want to talk."
"Why not, Madeline? You are not angry with me, surely?"
"Of course not. Why should I be?"
"I might be angry with you, but I'm not. I never could be angry with you, Madeline. You have no idea how much I think of you, and how much I appreciate you."
"Why might you be angry with me?" she asked, sharply, without turning her head.
The question almost staggered him for a moment. Yet as he had brought it upon himself he was bound to answer it.
"Well, you see," he said, desperately, "no man cares to see the woman he loves, and whom he expects to marry, walking out with another man, especially after dark."
"Oh, indeed!"
"But don't think I am angry with you, Madeline," he interposed, quickly. "I could trust you anywhere."