“I suppose not, Reggie, but do you know, I believe I’d love you lots
more if you were a poor beggar. You’re so much richer than I am now, and
somehow--somehow--you seem sort of selfish, and as if you could never
understand how things are with us. You seem--always--as if you were
looking down on us. Ada says you think we aren’t as good as you are.”
“Oh, I say, Marion, that’s not fair. I’ve always said your father was a
gentleman. Come, come!” he added peevishly, “don’t let’s argue, there’s
a good girl. It’s so jolly uncomfortable, and just think, I sharn’t be
with you much longer, now.”
He was to sail for England the following week. I was wearing his ring, a
lovely solitaire. In spite of all his prejudices and his selfishness,
Reggie had lots of lovable traits, and he was so handsome. Then, too, he
was really very much in love with me, and was unhappy about leaving me.
The day before he went, he took me in his arms and said, jealously:
“Marion, if you ever deceive me, I will kill you and myself, too. I know
I ought to trust you, but you’re so devilishly pretty, and I can’t help
being jealous of every one who looks at you. What’s more, you aren’t a
bit like the girls at home. You say and do really shocking things, and
sometimes, do you know, I’m really alarmed about you. I feel as if you
might do something while I’m away that wouldn’t be just right, you
know.”
I put my hand on my heart and solemnly I swore never, never to deceive
Reggie, and to be utterly true and faithful to him forever. Somehow, as
I spoke, I felt as if I were pacifying a spoiled child.