“And you wouldn’t come in to tea!” This with a touch of annoyance.

“Oh yes, I would, if I had wanted tea,” he replied—­“but I didn’t want it.”

“Nor my company, I suppose,” she added, with a little shrug of her shoulders.  His eyes flashed mischievously.

“Oh, I daresay that had something to do with it!” he agreed.

A curious vexation fretted her.  She wished he would not look so handsome—­and—­yes!—­so indifferent.  An impression of loneliness and desertion came over her—­he, Robin, was not the same to her now—­so she fancied—­no doubt he had been thinking hard all the day while doing his work, and at last had come to the conclusion that it was wisest after all to let her go and cease to care for her as he had done.  A little throbbing pulse struggled in her throat—­a threat of rising tears,—­but she conquered the emotion and spoke in a voice which, though it trembled, was sweet and gentle.

“Robin,” she said—­“don’t you think—­wouldn’t it be better—­ perhaps—­”

He looked up at her wonderingly—­she seemed nervous or frightened.

“What is it?” he asked—­“Anything you want me to do?”

“Yes”—­and her eyes drooped—­“but I hardly like to say it.  You see, Dad made up his mind this morning that we were to settle things together—­and he’ll be angry and disappointed—­”

Robin half-raised himself on one arm.

“He’ll be angry and disappointed if we don’t settle it, you mean,” he said—­“and we certainly haven’t settled it.  Well?”

A faint colour flushed her face.

“Couldn’t we pretend it’s all right for the moment?” she suggested—­“Just to give him a little peace of mind?”

He looked at her steadily.

“You mean, couldn’t we deceive him?”

“Yes!—­for his good!  He has deceived me all my life,—­I suppose for my good—­though it has turned out badly—­”

“Has it?  Why?”

“It has left me nameless,” she answered,—­“and friendless.”

A sudden rush of tears blinded her eyes—­she put her hands over them.  He sprang up and, taking hold of her slender wrists, tried to draw those hands down.  He succeeded at last, and looked wistfully into her face, quivering with restrained grief.

“Dear, I will do what you like!” he said.  “Tell me—­what is your wish?”

She waited a moment, till she had controlled herself a little.

“I thought”—­she said, then—­“that we might tell Dad just for to-night that we are engaged—­it would make him happy—­and perhaps in a week or two we might get up a quarrel together and break it off—­”

Robin smiled.

“Dear little girl!—­I’m afraid the plan wouldn’t work!  He wants the banns put up on Sunday—­and this is Wednesday.”

Her brows knitted perplexedly.

“Something can be managed before then,” she said.  “Robin, I cannot bear to disappoint him!  He’s old—­and he’s so ill too!—­it wouldn’t hurt us for one night to say we are engaged!”