"If you ever say that to me again, no power on earth will make me marry you," he said, in a voice that was not in the least threatening, but so decisive that there could be no doubt that he meant what he said; "and we've got to think up some way of getting along together without quarrelling all the time unless you have your own way about everything, whether it's fair that you should or not. Now, tell me what you wanted to talk to me about, and we'll try to do better--those troublesome details you mentioned before you left the farm? Perhaps I can straighten out some of them for you, if you'll only let me." "The first one is--money." "I thought so. It's a rather large obstacle, I admit. But things are not going to be so hard to adjust in that quarter as I feared. I'll tell you now about the little legacy I mentioned this morning." And he repeated his conversation with Uncle Mat. "You can do what you please with your own money, of course--take care of your own personal expenses, and run the house, and give all the presents you like to the girls--but you can't ever give me another cent, unless you want to call the family indebtedness to you your wedding present to me." "You can't get everything you want on the income of ten thousand dollars--which is about all the capital you'll have left when you've paid all these first expenses you mention." "I can have everything I _need_--with that and what I'll earn. What's your next 'detail'?" "I suppose I'll have to give in about the money--but will you mind, very much, if we have--a long engagement?" "I certainly shall. As I told you before, I think too much has been sacrificed to convention already." "It isn't that." "What, then?" "I don't know how to tell you, and still have you believe I love you dearly." "You mean, that for some reason, you're not ready to marry me yet?" And as she nodded without speaking, her eyes filling with tears, he asked very gently, "Why not, Sylvia?" "I'm afraid." "Afraid--_of me?_" "No--that is, not of you personally--but of marriage itself. I can't bear yet--the thought of facing--passion." The hand that had been stroking her hair dropped suddenly, and she felt him draw away from her, with something almost like a groan, and put her arms around his neck, clinging to him with all her strength. "_Don't_--I love you--and love you--and _love you_--oh, can't I make you see? Are you very angry with me, Austin?" "No, darling, I'm not angry at all. How could I be? But I'm just beginning to realize--though I thought I knew before--what a perfect hell you've been through--and wondering if I can ever make it up to you." "Then this doesn't seem to you dreadful--to have me ask for this?" "Not half so dreadful as it would to have you look at me as you did on Christmas night." He began stroking her hair again, speaking reassuringly, his voice full of sympathy.