"Clearer?" she asked, doubtfully, as she turned her gaze full upon me. "What is clearer?"
For an instant I flinched before that steady, questioning glance.
"It is clearer, how we two should act. Let us not blind ourselves with doubts, Yasma, nor throw our lives away over childish fancies. I have considered everything; I have thought and thought, and cannot see any objections great enough to stand in the way of our love. Let us pay no heed to what anyone may say; we shall be married, you and I; yes, we shall—"
Yasma had sprung to her feet; with a furious exclamation, she interrupted me. "No, no, no! It cannot be!"
In quivering agitation, she started pacing about the glade; and I had to go to her, and take her hands, and lead her back to her deserted grassy seat.
"Now we must talk things over calmly, Yasma," I urged. "Your father and I have talked them over calmly. And we have agreed quite well."
"But he didn't agree to let you marry me?" she demanded, almost fiercely. "He didn't agree to that?"
"He gave me his advice, and said everything was in our own hands."
"What advice did he give?" she flashed at me, not to be put off by equivocations. And her dark eyes shone with such distress that I would gladly have ended all arguments in a swift embrace.
But I understood the need to state the facts unemotionally. As simply as I could, I reported the general drift of my conversation with Abthar.