"I didn't--no, I didn't."

"It's what I say--that you've always hated me."

"I'll make it up to you!" he laughed.

She leaned on the doorway with her forehead against the lintel. "You
don't even deny it."

"Contradict you _now_? I'll admit it, though it's rubbish, on purpose to
live it down."

"It doesn't matter," she said slowly; "for however much you might have
liked me you'd never have done so half as much as I've cared for you."

"Oh I'm so poor!" Nick murmured cheerfully.

With her eyes looking at him as in a new light she slowly shook her
head. Then she declared: "You never can live it down."

"I like that! Haven't I asked you to marry me? When did you ever ask
me?"

"Every day of my life! As I say, it's hard--for a proud woman."

"Yes, you're too proud even to answer me."

"We must think of it, we must talk of it."

"Think of it? I've thought of it ever so much."

"I mean together. There are many things in such a question."

"The principal thing is beautifully to give me your word."

She looked at him afresh all strangely; then she threw off: "I wish I
didn't adore you!" She went straight down the steps.

"You don't adore me at all, you know, if you leave me now. Why do you
go? It's so charming here and we're so delightfully alone."

"Untie the boat; we'll go on the water," Julia said.

Nick was at the top of the steps, looking down at her. "Ah stay a
little--_do_ stay!" he pleaded.

"I'll get in myself, I'll pull off," she simply answered.

At this he came down and bent a little to undo the rope. He was close to
her and as he raised his head he felt it caught; she had seized it in
her hands and she pressed her lips, as he had never felt lips pressed,
to the first place they encountered. The next instant she was in the
boat.

This time he dipped the oars very slowly indeed; and, while for a period
that was longer than it seemed to them they floated vaguely, they mainly
sat and glowed at each other as if everything had been settled. There
were reasons enough why Nick should be happy; but it is a singular fact
that the leading one was the sense of his having escaped a great and
ugly mistake. The final result of his mother's appeal to him the day
before had been the idea that he must act with unimpeachable honour. He
was capable of taking it as an assurance that Julia had placed him under
an obligation a gentleman could regard but in one way. If she herself
had understood it so, putting the