Part 7 (1/2)

”Don't, please, _here_. It's so fearfully light. Don't, Breck,” I said.

”I've got the car,” he whispered. ”It will take us two hours. I've got it all planned. It's a peach of a night. You've got to come. I'm not for waiting any longer. You've got to marry me tonight, you little fis.h.!.+

I'll wake you up. Do you hear me? Tonight in two hours. I'm not going to hang around any longer. You've got to come!”

I managed to struggle away.

”Don't talk like that to me. It's insulting! Don't!” I said.

”Insulting! Say, ring off on that--will you? Insulting to ask a girl to marry you! Say, that's good! Well, insulting or not, I've made up my mind not to hang around any longer. I'll marry you tonight or not at all! You needn't be afraid. I've got it all fixed up--license and everything.” He whipped a paper out of his pocket. ”We'll surprise 'em, we will--you and I. I'm mad about you, and always have been. The mater--huh! Be a shock to her--but she'll survive.”

”I wouldn't elope with the king of England!” I said hotly. ”What do you think I am? Understand this, Breck. I require all the honors and high ceremonies that exist.”

”d.a.m.n it,” he said, ”you've been letting me come here without much ceremony every night, late, on the quiet. What have you got to say to that? I'm tired of seeing you pose on that high horse of yours. Come down. You know as well as I you've been leading me along as hard as you could for the last week. Good Lord--what for? Say, what's the game? I don't know. But listen--if you don't marry me _now_, then you never will. There's a limit to a man's endurance. Come, come, you can't do better for yourself. You aren't so much. The mater will never come around. She's got her teeth set. The car's ready. I shan't come again.”

”Wait a minute,” I said. ”I'll be back in a minute.” And I went straight into the house and upstairs to my room, knelt down before my bureau and drew out a blue velvet box. Breck's ring was inside.

Just as I was stealing down the stairs again, ever-on-the-guard, Edith appeared in the hall in her nightdress.

”What are you after?” she asked.

For answer I held out the box toward her. She came down two or three of the stairs.

”What you going to do with it?” she demanded.

”Give it back to Breck.”

She grasped my wrist. ”You little fool!” she exclaimed.

”But he wants me to run off with him. He wants me to elope.”

”He does!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, her eyes large. ”Well?” she inquired.

I stared up at Edith on the step above me in silence.

”Well?” she repeated.

”You don't mean----” I began.

”His mother is sure to come around in time. They always do. _My_ mother eloped,” she said.

”Edith Campbell Vars,” I exclaimed, ”do you actually mean----” I stopped. Even in the dim light of the hall I saw her flush before my blank astonishment. ”Do you mean----”

”Well, if you don't,” she interrupted in defense, ”everybody will think he threw _you_ over. You'll simply become an old glove. There's not much choice.”

”But my pride, my own self-respect! Edith Vars, you'd sell your soul for society; and you'd sell me too! But you can't--you can't! Let go my wrist. I'm sick of the whole miserable game. I'm sick of it. Let me go.”

”And I'm sick of it too,” flung back Edith. ”But _I've_ got a daughter's future to think about, I'd have you know, as well as yours. I've worked hard to establish ourselves in this place, and I've succeeded too. And now you come along, and look at the mess we're in! Humiliated! Ignored!

Insulted! It isn't my fault, is it? If I'd paddled my own canoe, I'd be all right today.”