“I will! I will!” she said to herself. “He shan’t struggle on alone. I _won’t_ lose my happiness--our happiness. I’m _not_ afraid!” CHAPTER SIXTEEN I She hurried downstairs to meet Lionel the next evening, flushed and resolute. “Let’s walk!” she said. “It’s raining----” “I don’t care. I want to talk to you. I must!” He didn’t approve of walking in the rain; he thought it imprudent and eccentric, so that he was somewhat stiff; but she took no notice of that. She thrust her hand through his arm and squeezed it a little. “Lionel!” she whispered, “Shall we get married?” “My dearest girl!” he cried. “You know there’s nothing on God’s earth I want so much. But----” “No! Listen! We can!” And she told him Miss Eppendorfer’s plan. He refused violently; it wasn’t fair to Frankie; he would be a cad, a beast. “You’ll be much more of a beast if you won’t. We can be happy. I’ll save up, and after you find a job, you can save too, so that we can soon have a home of our own. And until then, of course, we’ll keep it a secret. But, oh, Lionel, I do so want us to be safely married, so that no one can separate us. So that if you were to be sick, I could look after you.” He comprehended perfectly and sympathised with that curious and touching idea of all lovers; that if only they can be married, no ill can touch them; they are safe. “I can’t!” he said. “Absolutely I can’t. Don’t you see, old girl, I want to give you _something_--I don’t want to _take_ everything from you. I want----” “Don’t let pride stand in the way!” she entreated. “Lionel, only suppose one of us were to die! Dear, darling old boy, let’s be brave. Let’s just go ahead, and if things are hard, why, we’ll go through with them together.” “I ought not,” he said miserably. “It’s not fair to you.” He felt obliged to bring forward all the objections which obviously presented themselves, but he did so without spirit. For the preposterous idea appealed to him irresistibly. He said, “Wait,” but he didn’t mean it. He abhorred waiting at all times, and above all, waiting for Frankie. She kindled him, thrilled him with her serious madness. “We can’t waste our best years,” said Frankie. “Really, Lionel, it’s not a silly plan. I’m not rash, you know it. I _know_ this will be the best plan for us both.” She was determined to hold him tightly, to defend him from his own weakness, to fortify him. For this, any sacrifice of pride, of worldly advantage, was justified. She had to marry Lionel to save him, even if in saving him everything else was lost. “I’m not convinced,” he insisted, “but, old girl, I haven’t got the strength to refuse. I’d have to be more than mortal to refuse to marry my beautiful girl.” “Stop being so wretched!” she ordered. “We’re going to be happy. We’re going to help each other.” He caught her in his arms. “Darling!” he cried, “I’ll--I’d do _anything_ to make you happy. I’ll try. I’m not good enough, but I’ll try. I--absolutely worship you, Frankie!”