It surprised Alice too a little, and after a moment’s hesitation she said, “I will listen to you,” so much more gently than she had spoken before that Dan relaxed his imperative tone, and began to laugh.  “But,” she added, and her face clouded again, “it will be of no use.  My mind is made up this time.  Why should we talk?”

“Why, because mine isn’t,” said Dan.  “What is the matter, Alice?  Do you think I would force you, or even ask you, to go home with me to live unless you were entirely willing?  It could only be a temporary arrangement anyway.”

“That isn’t the question,” she retorted.  “The question is whether you’ve promised your mother one thing and me another.”

“Well, I don’t know about promising,” said Dan, laughing a little more uneasily, but still laughing.  “As nearly as I can remember, I wasn’t consulted about the matter.  Your mother proposed one thing, and my mother proposed another.”

“And you agreed to both.  That is quite enough—­quite characteristic!”

Dan flushed, and stopped laughing.  “I don’t know what you mean by characteristic.  The thing didn’t have to be decided at once, and I didn’t suppose it would be difficult for either side to give way, if it was judged best.  I was sure my mother wouldn’t insist.”

“It seems very easy for your family to make sacrifices that are not likely to be required of them.”

“You mustn’t criticise my mother!” cried Dan.

“I have not criticised her.  You insinuate that we would be too selfish to give up, if it were for the best.”

“I do nothing of the kind, and unless you are determined to quarrel with me you wouldn’t say so.”

“I don’t wish a quarrel; none is necessary,” said Alice coldly.

“You accuse me of being treacherous—­”

“I didn’t say treacherous!”

“Faithless, then.  It’s a mere quibble about words.  I want you to take that back.”

“I can’t take it back; it’s the truth.  Aren’t you faithless, if you let us go on thinking that you’re going to Europe, and let your mother think that we’re coming home to live after we’re married?”

“No!  I’m simply leaving the question open!”

“Yes,” said the girl—­sadly, “you like to leave questions open.  That’s your way.”

“Well, I suppose I do till it’s necessary to decide them.  It saves the needless effusion of talk,” said Dan, with a laugh; and then, as people do in a quarrel, he went back to his angry mood, and said “Besides, I supposed you would be glad of the chance to make some sacrifice for me.  You’re always asking for it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mavering,” said Alice, “for reminding me of it; nothing is sacred to you, it seems.  I can’t say that you have ever sought any opportunities of self-sacrifice.”

“I wasn’t allowed time to do so; they were always presented.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Mavering.  All this is quite a revelation.  I’m glad to know how you really felt about things that you seemed so eager for.”