"If you were going to be my wife, I believe I should beat you." "Well, that would at least break the monotony of things," she retorted.
But her lips set themselves in a straight, hard, line at the remembrance of Roger's stormy threat: "I might even do that." "Is it monotony you're suffering from ?" asked Ralph quickly.
She nodded.
"I'm fed up with the country and its green fields--never anything but green fields! They're so eternally, _damnably_ green!" "Oh, Nan! And the scenery in Cornwall is perfectly lovely!" protested Penelope feebly.
"Man cannot live by bread alone, Penny--nor scenery either.

I just yearned for London.

So I came." The next morning, much to Nan's surprise, brought neither letter nor telegram from Roger.
"I quite expected a wire: 'Return at once.

All will be forgiven,'" she said frivolously, as lunch time came and still no message.
"Perhaps he isn't prepared to forgive you," suggested Ralph.
Nan stared at him without answering, her eyes dilating curiously.

She had never even dreamed of such a possibility, and a sudden wild hope flamed up within her.
"It's rather a knock to a man's pride, you know, if the girl he's engaged to does a bolt the moment his back's turned," pursued Ralph.
"It was madness!" said Penelope with the calmness of despair.
Nan remained silent.