Riatt did not seem to feel mirthful. “Do you take in,” he asked her sternly, “that you have just broken your word.” “I’ve just plighted it, haven’t I?” “You promised to refuse me.” She sprang up. “I did not. I never said a word like it. If a stenographer had been here, the record would bear me out. You inferred it, I dare say. Besides, what could I do? Even Nancy herself told us no one would believe us unless I accepted you--at least for a time.” “For what time?” “Oh, don’t let us cross bridges until we get to them. We are hardly engaged yet--Max! I must practise calling you Max, mustn’t I?” In attempting to repress an irrepressible smile she developed an unknown dimple in her left cheek. The sight of it made his tone particularly relentless as he answered: “If by the fifteenth of this month you have not broken this engagement, I’ll announce its termination myself.” “And you,” she went on, as if he had not spoken, “must get into the habit of calling me Christine.” “Listen to me,” he said, and he took her by the shoulders with a gesture that no one could have mistaken for a caress. “I do not intend to marry you.” “I see you feel no doubt of my wishes in the matter.” “I wonder where I got the idea.” “Be reassured,” she said, finding herself released. “My intentions are honorable. I would not marry any really nice man absolutely against his will. Although I did say to myself the very first time I saw you, coming downstairs in that well-cut coat of yours--or is it the shoulders?--I did say: ‘I could be happy with that man, happier, that is, than with Ned.’ You may think it isn’t much of a compliment, but Ned has a very nice disposition, nicer than yours.” “And I should say it was the first requisite for your husband.” She became suddenly plaintive. “Of course I can see,” she said, “why any one shouldn’t want to be married, but I can’t see why you object to being engaged to me for a few weeks.” “How can I be sure you will keep your word?” “I’ll give it to you in writing,” she returned. “Write: This is to certify that I, Christine Fenimer, have enveigled the innocent and unsuspecting youth--” “I won’t,” said Riatt. “I will then,” she answered, and sitting down she wrote: “This is to certify that I, Christine Fenimer, have speciously, feloniously and dishonorably induced Mr. Max Riatt to make me an offer of marriage, which I knew at the time he had no wish to fulfil, and I hereby solemnly vow and swear to release him from same on or before the first day of March of this year of grace. (Signed) CHRISTINE FENIMER.” “There,” she said, “put that in your pocketbook, and for goodness’ sake don’t let your pocket be picked between now and the first of March.” He took it and put it very carefully away, observing as he did so: “It’s a long time to the first of March.” “It mayn’t seem as long as you think.”