The Last Woman

"You need not be nasty about it, when I'm trying to help you," she retorted.

"What's the next move, Bee? I couldn't induce you to give me another hug, could I? There, now--don't get angry. I liked it, whether you did, or not. You put a lot of ginger into it, too. Oh, yes, I liked it!"

For a moment, it seemed as if she would resent his bantering tone; then she shrugged her shoulders, and smiled.

"I did it to help you--to make Patricia jealous." She laughed lightly, still keeping her face turned away from him. "I saw the curtains part, and recognized Patricia. With the recognition, there came also a revelation as to how I could best help you both. If I had dreamed that you would suppose for a moment I was in earnest, do you think I would have done it? And when I told you that I would come here, to this church, and would marry you like this--good heavens!--did you flatter yourself I meant that?"

"Of course, I did."

"Are you in earnest, Roderick Duncan? If I thought your selfishness, your egotism, was as great as that, I--I don't know what I'd do! Have you so little regard for me that you think I would become your wife, in this manner, knowing as I do that you love another--and when that other is my best friend--when I know that Patricia Langdon loves you? For I do know it. Do you--did you think that of me--did you think that of me?" She was a-tremble with indignation, now.

"By Jove, Bee, I acted like a brute, didn't I? I didn't consider you; I was selfish enough to think of no one but myself. But, all the same, my girl, I was in dead earnest. If you've got the pluck and the spirit to go through with it, now, we'll see the thing out, side by side, just as we started, and I will make you, perhaps, a better husband than if the circumstances were different. You say that Patricia loves me: I doubt it. I thought so once, but I don't now. It doesn't matter, anyhow. I shall ask you again calmly, with all humility and respect; with all seriousness, too: will you be my wife, and will you marry me, now?"

"I will reply with equal seriousness, Roderick," she retorted, mockingly. "No."

He uttered a sigh, and there was so much satisfied relief in it that she laughed aloud, but without bitterness.

"Then, what shall we do? Sit here in this cab, in front of the Church of the Transfiguration, for the balance of the night? Or shall we go around to Delmonico's and have some supper?" he asked her.