“I mean,” said Harvey miserably stumbling on, “we sort of were. We understood.” He brought one hand from his pocket. It held the box containing the ring. “Why, Elsie,” he said pleadingly, “I even bought the ring. Just a plain band of gold. I did so hope that some day, soon perhaps, you’d let me put it on your finger and take you to our home. It wouldn’t be much, but I’d love you and care for you. Why I’d work night and day just to make things easy for you. I love you. It all begins and ends with that.”
Elsie stood for a moment as though this honest appeal had touched her. Then she turned sharply.
“O, what’s the use,” she cried, “Look at this place. See how we live. And you—you want me to go on like this? No!”
Harvey stared at her stupidly.
“Don’t stare at me like that,” said the girl annoyed.
“I am wondering what has changed you so,” said Harvey apologetically.
“Nothing, I tell you.”
“Yes, there is something, or somebody.”
“Now Harvey, please don’t begin—” Elsie paused. Her glance left Harvey’s face. A young man in a brown tweed suit and carrying a light walking stick in his gloved hand was coming toward the gate.
“Hello,” he said easily, addressing Elsie and ignoring Spencer, “anybody at home?”