It was Marion who
insisted on his having a third, too, when the second had already
set his ears drumming.
The effect on the boy of her steady propinquity, of her constant
caressing touches, of the general letting-down of the bars of
restraint, was to rouse in him impulses of which he was only vaguely
conscious, and his proposal of marriage, when it finally came, was
by nature of a confession. He had kissed her, not for the first
time, but this time she had let him hold her, and he had rained
kisses on her face.
"I want you," he had said, huskily.
And even afterward, when the thing was done, and she had said she
would marry him, she had to ask him if he loved her.
"I - of course I do," he had said. And had drawn her back into
his arms.
He wanted to marry her at once. It was the strongest urge of his
life, and put into his pleading an almost pathetic earnestness.
But she was firm enough now.
"I don't think your family will be crazy about this, you know."
"What do we care for the family? They're not marrying you, are they?"
"They will have to help to support me, won't they?"
And he had felt a trifle chilled.
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