"I can't wait any longer," urged Hurstwood. "If that is too
soon, come Saturday."

"When will we be married?" she asked, diffidently, forgetting in
her difficult situation that she had hoped he took her to be
Drouet's wife.

The manager started, hit as he was by a problem which was more
difficult than hers. He gave no sign of the thoughts that
flashed like messages to his mind.

"Any time you say," he said, with ease, refusing to discolour his
present delight with this miserable problem.

"Saturday?" asked Carrie.

He nodded his head.

"Well, if you will marry me then," she said, "I'll go."

The manager looked at his lovely prize, so beautiful, so winsome,
so difficult to be won, and made strange resolutions. His
passion had gotten to that stage now where it was no longer
coloured with reason. He did not trouble over little barriers of
this sort in the face of so much loveliness. He would accept the
situation with all its difficulties; he would not try to answer
the objections which cold truth thrust upon him. He would
promise anything, everything, and trust to fortune to disentangle
him. He would make a try for Paradise, whatever might be the