"I don't know," she said. "Not anyway yet. If--if you can stick to me for
six months--I--p'raps I'll think about it. But I think you'll come to
your senses long before then, Bunny." A desolate little note of humour
sounded in her voice. "And if you do, you'll be so glad not to have to
throw me over."
"You're talking rot," he interposed.
"No, I'm not. I'm talking sense--ordinary common sense. I wouldn't get
engaged to any man on the strength of what happened to-night. You hadn't
even thought of me in that way when we came up here."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Bunny. "Anyway, the mischief is done now.
And you needn't be afraid I shall throw you over because--" an unexpected
throb came into his voice--"I know now I've simply got to have you."
Toby sighed again. "But if--if I'm not worth waiting for, I'm not worth
having," she said.
"But why wait?" argued Bunny.
"For a hundred reasons. You're not really in love with me for one thing."
Toby spoke with conviction.
"Yes, I am." Stubbornly he contradicted her.
"No, you're not. Listen, Bunny! Love isn't just a passion-flower that
blooms in a single night and then fades. You're too young really to
understand, but I know--I know.
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