He was miserable as he said this--but they were all _so_ glad. "They must like you," said Mrs. Cary, "that's certain--or they wouldn't let you off twice in three weeks to come down here." "I told them they had to," explained George hastily; "I told them if they didn't I wouldn't work for them any more." "But you ought to save your money," Mrs. Cary reproached him gently. "Not spend it all on this expensive trip." Dinner was over--he and Jonquil were alone and she came back into his arms. "So glad you're here," she sighed. "Wish you never were going away again, darling." "Do you miss me?" "Oh, so much, so much." "Do you--do other men come to see you often? Like those two kids?" The question surprised her. The dark velvet eyes stared at him. "Why, of course they do. All the time. Why--I've told you in letters that they did, dearest." This was true--when he had first come to the city there had been already a dozen boys around her, responding to her picturesque fragility with adolescent worship, and a few of them perceiving that her beautiful eyes were also sane and kind. "Do you expect me never to go anywhere"--Jonquil demanded, leaning back against the sofa-pillows until she seemed to look at him from many miles away--"and just fold my hands and sit still--forever?" "What do you mean?" he blurted out in a panic. "Do you mean you think I'll never have enough money to marry you?" "Oh, don't jump at conclusions so, George." "I'm not jumping at conclusions. That's what you said." George decided suddenly that he was on dangerous grounds. He had not intended to let anything spoil this night. He tried to take her again in his arms, but she resisted unexpectedly, saying: "It's hot. I'm going to get the electric fan." When the fan was adjusted they sat down again, but he was in a supersensitive mood and involuntarily he plunged into the specific world he had intended to avoid. "When will you marry me?" "Are you ready for me to marry you?" All at once his nerves gave way, and he sprang to his feet. "Let's shut off that damned fan," he cried, "it drives me wild. It's like a clock ticking away all the time I'll be with you. I came here to be happy and forget everything about New York and time----" He sank down on the sofa as suddenly as he had risen. Jonquil turned off the fan, and drawing his head down into her lap began stroking his hair. "Let's sit like this," she said softly, "just sit quiet like this, and I'll put you to sleep. You're all tired and nervous, and your sweetheart'll take care of you." "But I don't want to sit like this," he complained, jerking up suddenly, "I don't want to sit like this at all. I want you to kiss me. That's the only thing that makes me rest. And anyways I'm not nervous--it's you that's nervous. I'm not nervous at all." To prove that he wasn't nervous he left the couch and plumped himself into a rocking-chair across the room.