You may like him--you don't know." Sally obeyed reluctantly.

In the heart of her was a dread of it; in her mind, the tardy admission that she was doing her duty, sacrificing at the altar upon which every woman at some time or other is compelled to make her offering.
In the little linoleum'd passage, known as the hall, Mr.Arthur was waiting for her.

He had exchanged his felt slippers for a pair of boots; round his neck he had wrapped an ugly muffler and a cap was perched jauntily on his head.

The impression that he gave Sally, of being confident of his success, stung her for a moment to resentment.
She determined to refuse him.

But that mood was only momentary.