"I suppose there will be trouble," she continued, meditatively; "still, that will be your fault. I have done all I could do."
She walked on in pained silence and paid no heed to the explanations and arguments by which the captain sought to justify his refusal. He began to get confused and rambling in his defence, and finally, to terminate an embarrassing interview, grunted out something about thinking it over. A moment later a radiant and admiring young woman was flattering him up to the skies.
"Mind, I only said I would think it over," said the captain, regarding her indignantly.
"Of course," said Joan, "I quite understand that; and you will write and break the news to father, won't you?"
"No, I'm hanged if I do," answered the captain.
"Never mind, then; I'll do it," said the girl, hastily. "I shall just write and tell him that I have changed my name to Trimblett. People have a right to change their name if they like. Lots of them do it. Make haste, you'll lose your omnibus. I shall never forget your kindness—never."
"Mind!" panted the captain, as she hurried him along, "it—isn't—settled. I am only going to think it over."
"I don't know what we should have done without you," continued Joan. "There isn't another man in the world would be so kind, I am sure. If you were only thirty or forty years younger I would marry you in reality."
"Mind!" said the captain, grasping the rail of the omnibus and pausing with his foot on the step, "I haven't—promised."
