"But mine," she recoiled. 
" Don't worry about yours. I'm not marrying your 
family. I'm marrying you. We have independent means." 
She relapsed into additional protests; but he kissed 
her the more. There was a deadly persuasion to his 
caresses. Mr. Semple had never displayed any such 
fire. He aroused a force of feeling in her which had not 
previously been there. She was afraid of it and ashamed. 
"Will you marry me in a month?" he asked, cheerfully, 
when she paused. 
"You know I won't!" she exclaimed, nervously. "The 
idea! Why do you ask?" 
"What difference does it make? You're entitled to 
marry me. We're going to get married, eventually. 
Just as soon as you want." He was thinking how attrac- 
tive he could make her look in other surroundings. 
Neither she nor his family knew how to live. 
"Well, not in a month. Wait a little while. I will 
marry you after a while—after you see whether you 
want me." 
He caught her tight. " I'll show you," he said. 
" Please stop. You hurt me." 
"How about us? Two months ?" 
"Certainly not." 
"Three ?" 
"Well, maybe." 
"No maybe in that case. We marry." 
"But you're only a boy." 
" Don't worry about me. You'll find out how much 
of a boy I am." 
He seemed of a sudden to open up a new world to her, 
and she realized that she had never really lived before. 
This man represented something bigger and stronger than 
ever her husband had dreamed of. In his young way he 
was terrible, irresistible. 
"Well, in three months then," she whispered, when he 
rocked her cozily in his arms.