Was it possible, after the words she had just uttered, the exaltation of confession still thrilling her, that she could hesitate?
Was it morbid over-conscientiousness in the horror of a broken promise to him that struck her silent?
"Say it, Geraldine." "Oh, Duane! I've said it so often to Kathleen and myself! Let me promise myself again--and keep my word.

Let me try that way, dear, before I--I promise you ?" There was a feverish colour in her face; she spoke rapidly, like one who temporises, trying to convince others and over-ride the inward voice; her slender hands were restless on his shoulders, her eyes lowered, avoiding his.
"Perhaps if you and Kathleen, and I, myself, were not so afraid--perhaps if I were not forbidden--if I had your confidence and my own that I would not abuse my liberty, it might be easier to refrain.

Shall we try it that way, Duane ?" "Do you think it best ?" "I think--I might try that way.

Dear, I have so much to sustain me now--so much more at stake! Because there is the dread of losing you--for, Duane, until I am mistress of myself, I will never, never marry you--and do you suppose I am going to risk our happiness?
Only leave me free, dear; don't attempt to wall me in at first, and I will surely find my way." She sprang up, trying to smile, hesitated, then slowly came back to where he was standing and put her arms around his neck.
"Good-bye until luncheon," she said.

"I must go back to my neglected guests--I am going to run all the way as fast as my legs can carry me! Kathleen will be dreadfully mortified.