"I?" he said. "I shall be ready at the end of the week--if that will suit
you."

She gazed at him blankly. "The end of the week! But of course not--of
course not! You are joking!"

"No, I am serious," Fletcher said. "Sit down a minute and let me
explain!"

Then, as she hesitated, he very gently put her down upon the seat under
the closed window, and stood before her, blocking her in.

"I have been wanting this opportunity of talking to you," he said,
"without Jack chipping in. He's a good fellow, and I know he is on my
side. But I have a fancy for scoring off my own bat. Listen, Dot! I am
not suggesting anything very preposterous. You have promised to marry me.
Haven't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, breathlessly. "Yes."

"Yes," he repeated. "And the longer you have to think about it, the more
scared you will get. My dear child, what is the point of spinning it out
in this fashion? You are going through agonies of mind--for nothing. If
I gave you back your freedom, you wouldn't be any happier, would you?"

She was silent.

"Would you?" he said again, and laid his hand upon her shoulder.

"I--don't think so," she said, faintly.