"I mean-" he said. "I mean that I love you and-"
"Yesterday-no. To-day-yes. To-morrow-who knows. Really, you ought to take some steps to know your own mind."
" Know my own mind," he retorted in a burst of in- dignation. "You mean you ought to take steps to know your own mind."
" My own mind! You-" Then she halted in acute confusion and all her face went pink. She had been far quicker than the man to define the scene. She lowered her head. Let me past, please-"
But Coleman sturdily blocked the way and even took one of her struggling hands. "Marjory-" And then his brain must have roared with a thousand quick sentences for they came tumbling out, one over the other. * * Her resistance to the grip of his fingers grew somewhat feeble. Once she raised her eyes in a quick glance at him. * * Then suddenly she wilted. She surrendered, she confessed without words. " Oh, Marjory, thank God, thank God-" Peter Tounley made a dramatic entrance on the gallop. He stopped, petrified. "Whoo!" he cried. "My stars! " He turned and fled. But Coleman called after him in a low voice, intense with agitation.
" Come back here, you young scoundrel! Come baok here I "
Peter returned, looking very sheepish. " I hadn't the slightest idea you-"
" Never mind that now. But look here, if you tell a single soul-particularly those other young scoundrels-I'll break-"
" I won't, Coleman. Honest, I won't." He was far more embarrassed than Coleman and almost equally so with Marjory. He was like a horse tugging at a tether. "I won't, Coleman! Honest!"
" Well, all right, then." Peter escaped.