"I only want to know if you have made up your mind?" he said, when
he had finished his preamble.
"Yes, Mr. Arthur, I have."
"You can't?"
He took the note in her voice. It rang there in answer to the
apprehension that was already in his mind.
"No, I can't."
"Why not?"
"The same reason I gave you before."
"You don't love me?"
"No; I'm sorry, but I don't."
"That'll come," he tried to say with confidence.
She thought he was really sure of it; but instead of being angry,
she felt sorry for him. He hoped for that--he had every right to
hope--but oh, he little realized how impossible it was--how utterly,
absolutely impossible it was now. There is no rate of exchange for
Romance in the heart of a woman; she gives her whole soul for it,
and nothing but Romance will she take in return.
"It's no good saying that," she replied; "things don't come when you
expect them to. It surely can't be right for people to marry when
they are only hoping that one of them may love the other."
"But you seem to forget the position I'm offering you," he said. "Is
that no inducement?"
"No; I'm not forgetting it. But do you think position is everything
to a woman?"
"No; but she likes a home.
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