They began to speak of trivial things. Margaret
tried to join calmly in the conversation, but her voice sounded
unnatural, and she fancied that more than once Arthur gave her a curious
look. At length she could control herself no longer and burst into a
sudden flood of tears. In a moment, uncomprehending but affectionate, he
caught her in his arms. He asked tenderly what was the matter. He sought
to comfort her. She wept ungovernably, clinging to him for protection.
'Oh, it's nothing,' she gasped. 'I don't know what is the matter with me.
I'm only nervous and frightened.'
Arthur had an idea that women were often afflicted with what he described
by the old-fashioned name of vapours, and was not disposed to pay much
attention to this vehement distress. He soothed her as he would have done
a child.
'Oh, take care of me, Arthur. I'm so afraid that some dreadful thing will
happen to me. I want all your strength. Promise that you'll never forsake
me.'
He laughed, as he kissed away her tears, and she tried to smile.
'Why can't we be married at once?' she asked.
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