"There are certain things," she said, in
a low voice, "that one can't help knowing."
"And one of them is that Lord Wyverton is too fond of larking to be
considered seriously at any time?" he questioned.
She did not answer. He stood and watched her speculatively.
"And so you won't have anything to say to me?" he said at last. "In fact,
you don't like me?"
She glanced at him with grey eyes that seemed to plead for mercy. "Yes,
I like you," she said, slowly. "But--"
"Never mind the 'but,'" said Wyverton, quietly. "Will you marry me?"
She turned fully round again and faced him. He saw that she was very
pale.
"Do you mean it?" she said. "Do you?"
He frowned at her, though his eyes remained quizzical and kindly. "Don't
be frightened," he said. "Yes; I am actually in earnest. I want you."
She stiffened at the words and grew paler still; but she said nothing.
It was Wyverton who broke the silence. There was something about her that
made him uneasy.
"You can send me away at once," he said, "if you don't want me. You
needn't mind my feelings, you know."
"Send you away!" she said. "I!"
He gave her a sudden, keen look, and held out his hand to her. "Never
mind the rest of the world, Phyllis," he said, very gravely. "Let them
say what they like, dear. If we want each other, there is no power on
earth that can divide us."
She drew in her breath sharply as she laid her hand in his.
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