"Philip," she said, "we were both, I fear, thoughtlessly rash last night."
"In what way?" asked Philip, possessing himself of her hand, as it seemed he was not to have her waist.
"Oh--you know. In what you said and I--I listened to. I think we must wait a little, Philip: another year or so. It will be best."
"Wait for what? What is running in your head, Maria?"
"Until our prospects shall be a little more assured. Forgive me, Philip, but I mean it; I am quite serious. In a year's time from this, if you so will it, we can speak of it again."
"Do you mean to say there must be no engagement between us?" fired Philip.
"There had better not be. Neither of us at present has any chance of carrying it out."
"Oh," commented Philip, who was getting angry. "Perhaps you will point out what you do mean, Maria. I can see no meaning in it."
The tears rose to Maria's eyes. "Philip dear, don't be vexed with me: I speak for your sake more than for my own. At present you have no home to take a wife to, no expectation of making one----"
"But I have," interrupted Philip. "Old Tiplady intends to take me into partnership."