"
"Why?" she asked absently. She wanted to get away, to get back to
John Hewitt.
His arms tightened.
"Why? You know perfectly well why. You have got me--do you know it?
From the very first minute I ever saw you."
She smiled up at him, and shook her head.
"You make love beautifully," she heard herself saying coolly. "But
you really shouldn't make it to your host's fiancee in his house. It
isn't done."
"Don't you suppose I know that?" answered Clarence tempestuously.
"Joy Havenith, do you mean to say that you think I'm doing the
ordinary love-making one does in any conservatory?"
She smiled a little. He was more like the Clarence she usually knew,
and she did not take it at all seriously.
"Why, you do it better than most," she said. "Go on. I like it."
If there was one thing she knew well, it was Clarence's love-making.
Indeed, she had come to the point where Clarence's remarks scarcely
constituted love-making at all in her eyes. They were merely his
kind of manners, and she was a little tired of them.
"Good heavens! How on earth am I going to convince you?" she heard
him say, with a little surprise. This was not the kind of thing he
said ordinarily. "Joy, I fell in love with you, the real kind of
love, the first night I saw you. You've known it all along. I wish
you'd stop pretending not to--I'm getting tired of it. I want to
marry you--I'd marry you tonight if you said the word.
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