"I think it was settled long before I knew it."
"Then you"re to be married right away?"
"I hope so."
"That will be nice."
"It will be wonderful," he exclaimed. "It will be the most wonderful thing in the world!"
"But why did you come "way down here?"
"To talk it over with you. You see, a lot depends upon you."
"Me?"
Again that questioning personal p.r.o.noun.
"A great deal depends upon you. You are to say when it is to be."
"Mr. Pendleton!"
"I wish you"d remember I"m not in the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves now. Can"t you call me just Don?"
She did not answer.
"Because," he explained, "I mean to call you Sally."
"You mustn"t."
"I mean to call you that all the rest of my life," he went on more soberly. "Don"t you understand how much depends upon you?"
Startled, she glanced up swiftly. What she saw in his eyes made her catch her breath. He was speaking rapidly now:--
"Everything depends upon you--upon no one else in all the world but you. I discovered that in less than a day after you left. It"s been like that ever since I met you. I love you, and I"ve come down here to marry you--to take you back with me to the house that"s all ready--back to the house you"ve made ready."
She gave a little cry and covered her face with her hands.
"Don"t do that," he pleaded.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "IT"S ABOUT MY GETTING MARRIED"]
She looked as if she were crying.
"Sally--Sally Winthrop, you aren"t crying?"
He placed a hand upon her arm.
"Don"t touch me!" she sobbed.
"Why shouldn"t I touch you?"
"Because--because this is all a horrible mistake."
"I"m trying to correct a horrible mistake," he answered gently.
"No--no--no. You must go back to her--right away."
"To Frances?"
She nodded.
"You don"t understand. She doesn"t want to marry me."
"You asked her?"
"Yes."
"And then--and then you came to me?"
"Yes, little girl. She sent me to you. She--why, it was she that made me see straight!"
Her face was still concealed.
"I--I wish you"d go away," she sobbed.
"You don"t understand!" he answered fiercely. "I"m not going away. I love you, and I"ve come to get you. I won"t go away until you come with me."
She rose to her feet, her back toward him.
"Go away!" she cried.
Then she ran into the house, leaving him standing there dazed.
CHAPTER x.x.x
DON EXPLAINS
It seemed that, in spite of her business training and the unsentimental outlook on life upon which she had rather prided herself, Sally Winthrop did not differ greatly from other women. Shut up in her room, a deep sense of humiliation overwhelmed her. He had asked this other girl to marry him, and when she refused he had come to her! He thought as lightly of her as that--a mere second choice when the first was made impossible. He had no justification for that. This other had sent him to her--doubtless with a smile of scorn upon her pretty lips.
But what was she crying about and making her nose all red? She should have answered him with another smile and sent him back again. Then he would have understood how little she cared--would have understood that she did not care enough even to feel the sting of such an insult as this. For the two days she had been here awaiting the announcement of his marriage she had said over and over again that she did not care--said it the first thing upon waking and the last thing upon retiring. Even when she woke up in the night, as she did many times, she said it to herself. It had been a great comfort to her, for it was a full and complete answer to any wayward thoughts that took her unaware.
She did not care about him, so what was she sniveling about and making her nose all red? She dabbed her handkerchief into her eyes and sought her powder-box. If he had only kept away from her everything would have been all right. Within the next ten or eleven days she would have readjusted herself and been ready to take up her work again, with another lesson learned. She would have gone back to her room wiser and with still more confidence in herself. And now he was downstairs, waiting for her. There was no way she could escape him. She must do all those things without the help of seclusion. She must not care, with him right before her eyes.
She began to cry again. It was not fair. It was the sense of injustice that now broke her down. She was doing her best, and no one would help her. Even he made it as hard for her as possible. On top of that he had added this new insult. He wished a wife, and if he could not have this one he would take that one--as Farnsworth selected his stenographers. He had come to her because she had allowed herself to lunch with him and dine with him and walk with him. He had presumed upon what she had allowed herself to say to him. Because she had interested herself in him and tried to help him, he thought she was to be as lightly considered as this. He had not waited even a decent interval, but had come to her direct from Frances--she of the scornful smile.