“You can't help it. I love you and that's all there is about it. I know I'm a fool to tell you now, Betty, but years wouldn't make any difference in my feeling; and I can't have you go, and perhaps never see you again, if I can help it. Betty—give me a chance—you don't hate me—”
“But I do—yes, I do—indeed—”
“I know you don't. Let me see you again and do what I can to make you care for me!” he implored. But he had a very indignant little aristocrat to deal with. She was angry with him, and angry with herself that in spite of herself his words moved her. She wouldn't have it so! Why, he wasn't even of her class—her kind! “Betty, you don't mean—” he faltered.
“I mean—I am extremely annoyed. I mean just what I say.” Betty regarded him with wrathful blue eyes. It proved too much for Carrington. His arm, dropped about her shoulders.
“You shall love me—” She was powerless in his embrace. She felt his breath on her cheek, then he kissed her. Breathless and crimson, she struggled and pushed him from her. Suddenly his arms fell at his side; his face was white. “I was a brute to do that!—Betty, forgive me! I am sorry—no, I can't be sorry!”'
“How do you dare! I hope I may never see you again—I hate you—” said Betty furiously, tears in her eyes and her pulses still throbbing from his fierce caress.
“Do you mean that?” he asked slowly, rising.
“Yes—yes—a million times, yes!”
“I don't believe you—I can't—I won't!” They were alongside the New Madrid wharf now, and a certain young man who had been impatiently watching The Naiad's lights ever since they became visible crossed the gang-plank with a bound.
“Betty—why in the name of goodness did you ever, choose this tub?—everything on the river has passed it!” said the newcomer. Betty started up with a little cry of surprise and pleasure.