The seclusion it offered extended, or so we were happy to think,
to the solitary divan at its base on which Mr. Durand and I were
seated. With possibly an undue confidence in the advantage of our
position, we were discussing a subject interesting only to
ourselves, when Mr. Durand interrupted himself to declare: "You
are the woman I want, you and you only. And I want you soon. When
do you think you can marry me? Within a week--if--"
Did my look stop him? I was startled. I had heard no incoherent
phrase from him before.
"A week!" I remonstrated. "We take more time than that to fit
ourselves for a journey or some transient pleasure. I hardly
realize my engagement yet."
"You have not been thinking of it for these last two months as I
have."
"No," I replied demurely, forgetting everything else in my
delight at this admission.
"Nor are you a nomad among clubs and restaurants."
"No, I have a home."
"Nor do you love me as deeply as I do you."
This I thought open to argument.
"The home you speak of is a luxurious one," he continued. "I can
not offer you its equal Do you expect me to?"
I was indignant.
"You know that I do not. Shall I, who deliberately chose a
nurse's life when an indulgent uncle's heart and home were open
to me, shrink from braving poverty with the man I love? We will
begin as simply as you please--"
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