They had reached the Common, and Cobb struck along a path most likely to be unfrequented.
No wind was blowing; the rain fell in steady spots that could all but be counted, and the air grew dark.
'Well, I can only propose one thing,' sounded the masculine voice.
'You can get out of it by marrying me.' Louise gave a little laugh, rather timid than scornful.
'Yes, I suppose I can.

But it's an awkward way.

It would be rather like using a sledge-hammer to crack a nut.' 'It'll come sooner or later,' asserted Cobb, with genial confidence.
'That's what I don't like about you.' Louise withdrew her arm petulantly.

'You always speak as if I couldn't help myself.

Don't you suppose I have any choice ?' 'Plenty, no doubt,' was the grim answer.
'Whenever we begin to quarrel it's your fault,' pursued Miss Derrick, with unaccustomed moderation of tone.