"Peter, how dare you add falsehood to--to--you know what. Do you mean to
say that my father told you to kiss me, and at six o'clock in the
morning, too?"

"He said nothing about kissing, but I suppose he meant it. He said that
I might ask you to marry me."

"That," replied Margaret, "is a very different thing. If you had asked
me to marry you, and, after thinking it over for a long while, I had
answered Yes, which of course I should not have done, then, perhaps,
before we were married you might have--Well, Peter, you have begun at
the wrong end, which is very shameless and wicked of you, and I shall
never speak to you again."

"I daresay," said Peter resignedly; "all the more reason why I should
speak to you while I have the chance. No, you shan't go till you have
heard me. Listen. I have been in love with you since you were twelve
years old--"

"That must be another falsehood, Peter, or you have gone mad. If you had
been in love with me for eleven years, you would have said so."

"I wanted to, always, but your father refused me leave. I asked him
fifteen months ago, but he put me on my word to say nothing."

"To say nothing--yes, but he could not make you promise to show
nothing."

"I thought that the one thing meant the other; I see now that I have