He laughed a little.

“Yes, but you would have all these things a thousand times multiplied if you were married.

Look at all the restraints and restrictions to which girls are subjected where married women simply please themselves.  Why, you are absolutely hedged round with conventions.  You can scarcely go for a ride with a man of your acquaintance in broad daylight without endangering your reputation.  What would they say—­your cousin and Mrs. Abingdon—­if they knew that you were here with me now?  They would hold up their hands in horror.”

The girl’s thoughts flashed suddenly to Caryl.  How much freedom might she expect from him?

“It’s all very well,” she said, with a touch of petulance, “but easy-going husbands don’t grow on every gooseberry-bush.  I have never yet met the man who wouldn’t want to arrange my life in every detail if I married him.”

“Yes, you have,” said Brandon.

He spoke with deliberate emphasis, and she knew that as he spoke he looked at her in a manner that there could be no mistaking.  Her heart quickened a little, and she felt the colour rise in her face.

“Do you know that I am engaged to Vivian Caryl?” she said.

“Perfectly,” he answered.  “I also know that you have not the smallest intention of marrying him.”

She frowned, but did not contradict him.

He continued with considerable assurance: 

“He is not the man to make you happy, and I think you know it.  My only wonder is that you didn’t realize it earlier—­before you became engaged to him.”

“My engagement was only an experiment,” she said quickly.

“And therefore easily broken,” he rejoined.  “Why don’t you put a stop to it?”

She hesitated.

He bent towards her.

“Do you mean to say that he is cad enough to hold you against your will?”

Still she hesitated, half-afraid to speak openly.

He leant nearer; he took her hand.

“My dear child,” he said, “don’t for Heaven’s sake give in to such tyranny as that, and be made miserable for the rest of your life.  Oh, I grant you he is the sort of fellow who would make what is called a good husband, but not the sort of husband you want.  He would keep you in order, shackle you at every turn.  Marry him, and it will be good-bye to liberty—­even such liberty as you have now—­forever.”

Her face had changed.  She was very pale.

“I know all that,” she said, speaking rapidly, with headlong impulse.  “But, don’t you see how difficult it is for me?  They are all on his side, and he is so horribly strong.  Oh, I was a fool I know to accept him.  But we were waltzing and it came so suddenly.  I never stopped to think.  I wish I could get away now, but I can’t.”

“I can tell you of a way,” said Brandon.

She glanced at him.

“Oh, yes, I know.  But I can’t be engaged to two people at once.  I couldn’t face it.  I detest scenes.”