“Oh, I think you could. She would like it.” 

 Monica looked rather frightened at her boldness, and quickly added— 

 “Now I must say good-bye. There comes the bus.” 

 Bullivant turned desperately in that direction. He saw there was as yet no inside passenger. 

 “Do allow me to go a short way with you?” burst from his lips. “I positively don’t know how I shall spend the morning.” 

 Monica had signalled to the driver, and was hurrying forward. Bullivant followed, reckless of consequences. In a minute both were seated within. 

 “You will forgive me?” pleaded the young fellow, remarking a look of serious irritation on his companion’s face. “I must be with you a few minutes longer.” 

 “I think when I have begged you not to—” 

 “I know how bad my behaviour must seem. But, Miss Madden, may I not be on terms of friendship with you?” 

 “Of course you may—but you are not content with that.” 

 “Yes—indeed—I will be content—” 

 “It’s foolish to say so. Haven’t you broken the understanding three or four times?” 

 The bus stopped for a passenger, a man, who mounted to the top. 

 “I am so sorry,” murmured Bullivant, as the starting horses jolted them together. “I try not to worry you. Think of my position. You have told me that there is no one else who—whose rights I ought to respect. Feeling as I do, it isn’t in human nature to give up hope!” 

 “Then will you let me ask you a rude question?” 

 “Ask me any question, Miss Madden.” 

 “How would it be possible for you to support a wife?” 

 She flushed and smiled. Bullivant, dreadfully discomposed, did not move his eyes from her. 

 “It wouldn’t be possible for some time,” he answered in a thick voice. “I have nothing but my wretched salary. But every one hopes.” 

 Prev. P 27/356 next