"Not until you answer me, Mollie."

"Answer you? Answer you what? You haven't asked me any question."

"I told you I loved you."

"Well," testily, "you don't call that a question?"

"Mollie, will you love me?"

"No--of course not! Oh, what a torment you are! Do let us go back!"

"Never!" exclaimed Dr. Oleander, gathering hope--"never, Mollie, until
you answer me!"

He caught both her hands and held them fast, Mollie struggling in vain.

"Oh, dear, dear, what will I say? And there--if there isn't some one
coming in! Let me go, for pity's sake, and I'll answer you--to-morrow."

"To-night, Mollie--to-night!"

"I won't--there!" wrenching her hands free and springing up. "Come
to-morrow, between twelve and one, and you shall have your answer."

She darted away, and almost into the arms of Mr. Hugh Ingelow. That
gentleman looked suspiciously from her to Dr. Oleander, emerging from
the shadow of the orange-tree.

"Am I _de trop_, Miss Dane? I thought to find the conservatory