“Oh, how could you think such a thing?” said she, in her soft, cooing way, yet with a half-indignant intonation in her voice.
"Oh, I am perfectly content now,” replied Grim, and his old, pompous air and manner of speech began to assert themselves. “Of course I could not show you my heart in all its tenderness—I was a husband and had to control myself—but now, it seems as if all obstacles have been removed. Do you love me, Bertha? I have thought many times that I could read my answer in your eyes, but I long to hear you say so.”
“Yes,” whispered Bertha, “I love you so much.”
In his daily walks, Rufus Grim was an over-bearing, selfish man, but now he was softened, and his emotion was very great. He looked tenderly and longingly on the drooping head beside him, and was for a time completely absorbed in the intensity of his love for the artful girl at his side.
Yes, she was fooling him. She was the affianced wife of J. Arthur Boast, and yet she must play her part.
“And may I one day call you wife?” said Rufus Grim, pressing her closely to him and kissing her reverently on the forehead. “Say in a year from now,” he pleaded.
“Yes,” she lisped, gently pressing his hand, “it shall be as you say.” As a matter of truth, she was mentally speculating how she could get out of this horrible scrape. He had said in a year—that was a long time. She would have ample opportunity to free herself in some way. Arthur must help her.