or you
is the biggest thing in my life so far, and I long to complete it. Don't
you understand what I mean?"

"I suppose I do," she said very quietly.

"Are you going to let me?"

"Some day I suppose I shall."

"Not at once?"

"No."

"Why not? Don't you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Kiss me," she said. "I can't explain. Don't let's talk about it any
more."

"I can't understand women," Maurice declared.

"Ah!"

She smiled; but in the smile there was more of sadness than mirth.

"Why waste time?" he demanded passionately. "God knows we have little
enough time. Jenny, I warn you, I beg you not to waste time. You're
making a mistake. Like all girls, you're keeping one foot in a sort of
washy respectability."

"Don't go on," Jenny said. "I've told you I will one day."

"Why not come abroad with me if you're afraid of what your people will
say?"

"I couldn't. Not while my mother was alive."

"Well, don't do that; but still it's easy enough not--to waste time.
Your mother need never find out. I'm not a fool."

"Ah, but I should feel a sneak."

Maurice sighed at such scruples.

"Besides," she added, "I don't want to--not yet. Can't we be happy like
we have been? I will one day."

"You can't play with love," Maurice warned her.

"I'm not. I'm more in earnest than what you are."

"I don't think you are."

"But I am. Supposing if you got tired of me?"

"I couldn't."

"Ah, but that's where men are funny. All of a sudden you might take a
sudden fancy to another girl. And then what about me? What should I do?"

"It comes to this," he argued. "You don't trust me yet. You don't
believe in me. Good heavens, what can I do to show you I'm sincere?"

"Can't you wait a little while?" she gently asked.

"I must."

"And you won't ask me again?"

"I won't promise that."

"Well, not for a long time?" Jenny pleaded.

"I won't even promise that. You see I honestly think you're making a
mistake--a mistake for which you'll be very sorry one day. I wish you
understood my character better."

"All men are the same." She sighed out the generalization.

"That's absurd, my dear girl. I might as well say all women are the
same."

"Well, they are. They're all soppy."

"Isn't it rather soppy to go as far as you have with me, and not go
farther?" Maurice spoke tentatively.

"Oh, _I've_ properly joined the soppy brigade. I did think I was
different, but I'm not. I'm well in the first line."

"Don't you