Poor Mark!  Perhaps if he had asked her only a week earlier, his lady might have given him a kinder answer.  But Julia was walking in a golden dream to-day, a dream peopled only by herself and one other, and she hardly noticed his emotion.  She fixed her blue eyes vaguely on the black eyes so near, and smiled a little.

“Oh, answer me, Julia!” Mark said impatiently.  And a second later he asked alertly:  “Where’d you get the violets?”

“Oh—­somebody,” Julia temporized.  Pink flooded her cheeks.

“Who?” said Mark, very calm.

“Oh, Mark, what a tone!  Nobody you know!” Julia laughed.

“Is he in love with you?” Mark asked fiercely.

“Oh, don’t be so silly!  No, of course he’s not.”

“Tell me who he is!” Mark commanded grimly.

“Now, look here, Mark,” Julia said sternly, “you stop that nonsense, or you can get straight off this car, and I’ll go home alone!  And don’t you sulk, either, for it’s too ridiculous, and I won’t have it!”

Mark succumbed instantly.

“It’s because I love you so,” he said humbly.  There was a little silence, then Julia, watching the Sunday streets, said suddenly: 

“Look, Mark, look at the size of that hat!”

Mark, disdaining to turn his eyes for the fraction of a moment from her face, said reproachfully: 

“Are you going to answer me, Julia?”

“How do you mean?” Julia said nervously.

“You know what I mean,” Mark answered, with an impatient nod.

“No, I don’t,” Julia said, with a little laugh.

“Now, you look-a-here, Julia—­you look-a-here,” Mark began, almost angrily.  “I am going to ask you to marry me!  You’ve fooled about it, and you’ve laughed about it, and I’ve got a right to know!  I think about it all the time; I lie awake at night and think about it.  I”—­his voice softened suddenly—­“I love you awfully, Julia,” he said.  And then, with a sort of concentrated passion that rather frightened the girl, he added, “So I’m going to ask you once more.  I want you to answer me, d’ye see?”

The car sped on, clanged across Market Street, turned into the Mission.  Julia had grown a little pale.  She gave Mark a fleeting glance, looked away, and finally brought her eyes back to him again.

“I wish you wouldn’t take things so seriously, Mark,” she began uneasily.  “You’re always forcing me to say things—­and I don’t want to—­I don’t want to get married at all—­”

“Nonsense!” said Mark harshly.

“It’s not nonsense!” Julia protested, glad to feel her anger rising.  Mark saw her heightened colour, and misread it.

“Yes,” he said sneeringly.  “That’s all very well, but I’ll bet you’d feel pretty badly if I never came near you again—­if I let the whole thing drop!”