"But this is awful," said Anne. She clasped her hands and stood in front
of him. "Surely you do see how fatal it would be for us to marry, don't
you?"

"Oh, quite, quite," said Reggie, looking at her with haggard eyes.

"How wrong, how wicked, feeling as I do. I mean, it's all very well for
Mr. and Mrs. Dove. But imagine that in real life--imagine it!"

"Oh, absolutely," said Reggie, and he started to walk on. But again Anne
stopped him. She tugged at his sleeve, and to his astonishment, this time,
instead of laughing, she looked like a little girl who was going to cry.

"Then why, if you understand, are you so un-unhappy?" she wailed. "Why do
you mind so fearfully? Why do you look so aw-awful?"

Reggie gulped, and again he waved something away. "I can't help it," he
said, "I've had a blow. If I cut off now, I'll be able to--"

"How can you talk of cutting off now?" said Anne scornfully. She stamped
her foot at Reggie; she was crimson. "How can you be so cruel? I can't
let you go until I know for certain that you are just as happy as you were
before you asked me to marry you. Surely you must see that, it's so
simple."

But it did not seem at all simple to Reginald. It seemed impossibly
difficult.

"Even if I can't marry you, how can I know that you're all that way away,
with only that awful mother to write to, and that you're miserable, and