"What do you want of me, Daisy?"
"I think, this," I said, raising my head and laying my hand on his shoulder instead. "Suppose, Christian, you leave the question undecided - the question of letters, I mean, - until I get there, - to Switzerland, - and see my father and mother. Perhaps I can judge then what will be safe to do; and if I can write, you know I will write immediately."
"And if you cannot?"
"Then - I will write once, to let you know how it is."
He stood still, reading my face, until it was a little hard to bear, and my eyes went down.
"Suppose your father and mother - suppose they are obdurate,
Daisy, and will not have me, being a Northern man and in the
Government service?"
What then? I could not say.
"Suppose it, Daisy."
"Well, Christian?" I said, raising my eyes to his face.
"What will you do?"