"Please, Maggie"--his imploring voice broke in upon her--"won't you
answer me? You like me, don't you?--you'll marry me, won't you?"
"I like you, Dick," she choked out--and it was some slight comfort to
her to be telling this much of the truth--"but--but I can't marry
you."
"Maggie!" It was a cry of surprised pain, and the pain in his voice
shot acutely into her. "From the way you acted toward me--I thought--I
hoped--" He sharply halted the accusation which had risen to his lips.
"I'm not going to take that answer as final, Maggie," he said
doggedly. "I'm going to give you more time to think it over--more time
for me to try. Then I'll ask you again."
That which prompted Maggie's response was a mixture of impulses: the
desire, and this offered opportunity, to escape; and a faint
reassertion of the momentum of her purpose. For with one such as
Maggie, the set purposes may be seemingly overwhelmed, but death comes
hard.
"All right," she breathed rapidly. "Only please get me back as quickly
as you can. I'm to have dinner with my--my cousin, and I'll be very
late."
Dick drove her into the city in almost unbroken silence and left her
at the great doors of the Grantham, abustle with a dozen lackeys in
purple livery. She stood a moment and watched him drive away.
Pages:
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268