"I can't tell him yet, Jack, really—you must wait a while. You won't mind, will you?"
"I hate this deception."
"So do I. But father has not been quite himself lately—I think something troubles him."
"Does he want to marry you to any one else?" Jack asked, jealously. "Is there anything of the sort between him and that young chap who comes to the house?"
"I can't be certain, Jack, but sometimes I imagine so, though father has never spoken to me about it. I dislike Mr. Royle, and discourage his attentions."
"His attentions?"
"Oh, Jack, don't look at me in that way—you make me feel wretched. Won't you trust me and believe me? I love you with all my heart, and I am as really yours as if I were married to you."
"My darling, I do trust you," he said contritely. "Forgive me—I was very foolish. I know that nothing can separate us, and I will await your own time in patience. And when you are willing to have me speak to your father—"
"It shall be very soon, dear," whispered Madge, looking up at him with a soft light in her eyes. "If I find him in a good humor I will tell him myself. We are great chums, you know."
Jack kissed her, and then glanced at his watch.