"I believe you are treating me in a most ungentlemanly manner in
keeping me here when I don't wish to stay."

"I can't let you go," I said as I rose, but standing so that she could
not pass, "till you are convinced that I love you, for I do, and shall
always. Surely I have a right to an answer."

"I thought you were good-natured"--now she spoke reproachfully--"and
you are teasing me in the most disagreeable way. Please let me pass."

"Do you think me so base as to tease you on such a subject? What shall
I do to persuade you that I am sincere."

"Let me go home."

"May I go with you?"

"I would rather you did not come, please."

"Why are you so unkind?" I asked, taking her hand. "Tell me you love
me, and let us be happy."

"But I don't love you," she said, trying to withdraw her hand, and the
tears coming into her eyes. "I don't love you, and I want to go home."
She turned from me to hide her face, looking about at the same time
for some way of escape.

"But you will love me by to-morrow," I replied soothingly. "I may ask
you again, may I not?" and then she looked so pitiful, with the tears
rolling from her frightened eyes and her hand trembling in mine, that