greater for its
very coolness.

"I'll wait for you," he said. "I'll wait three years. I shall be
twenty-five then, and you'll be twenty-one. But you'll marry me then,
Dot. You'll have to marry me then."

"Have to!" flashed Dot.

"Yes, have to," he repeated coolly. "You are mine."

"I'm not, Bertie!" she declared indignantly. "How--how dare you hold me
against my will? And you're upsetting the apples too. Bertie,
you--you're a horrid cad!"

"Yes, I know," said Bertie, an odd note of soothing in his voice. "That's
what you English people always do when you're beaten. You hurl insults,
and go on fighting. But it's nothing but a waste of energy, and only
makes the whipping the more thorough."

"You hateful American!" gasped Dot. "As if--as if--we could be beaten!"

She had struggled vainly for some seconds and was breathless. She turned
suddenly in his arms and placed her hands against his shoulders, forcing
him from her. Bertie instantly changed his position, seized her wrists,
drew them outward, drew them upward, drew them behind his neck.

"And yet you love me," he said. "You love yourself better, but--you
love me."

His face was bent to hers, he looked closely into her eyes. And--perhaps
it was something in his look that moved her--perhaps it was only the
realisation of her own utter impotence--Dot suddenly hid her face upon
his shoulder and began to cry.

His arms were about her in an instant. He held her against his heart.

"My dear, my dear, have I been a brute to you? I only wanted to make you
understand. Say, Dot, don't cry, dear, don't cry!"

"I--I'm not!" sobbed Dot.

"Of course not," he agreed. "Anyone can see that. But
still--darling--don't!"

Dot recovered herself with surprising rapidity. "Bertie, you--you're a
great big donkey!" She confronted him with wet, accusing eyes. "What you
said just now wasn't true, and if--if you're a gentleman you'll
apologise."

"I'll let you kick me all the way downstairs if you like," said
Bertie contritely. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I didn't mean
to make you--"

"You didn't!" broke in Dot. "But you didn't tell the truth. That's why
I'm angry with you. You--told--a lie."

"I?" said Bertie.

He had taken his arms quite away from her now. He seemed in fact a little
afraid of touching her. But Dot showed no disposition to beat a retreat.
They faced each other in the old apple cupboard, as if it were the most
appropriate place in the world for a c