Now once you did tell me that you loved me, and so you
accepted my love. There's no getting out of it. I've given you
everything I've got, and you can't throw it away. The question is
--what are you going to do with it? What are you going to do with
me?"
His sophistries frightened her; but she cut through them.
"Isn't it rather a question of what you're going to do with
yourself?"
"If you give me up I don't care a hang what becomes of me." He
came very near and his voice was dangerously soft. "Phyllis dear,
I do love you with all my heart. Why won't you marry me?"
But a hateful scene rushed to her memory. She drew herself up.
"Why are my father and you persecuting me to marry you?"
"Your father?" he interrupted, in astonishment. "When?"
She named the day, Wednesday of last week. In desperation she told
him what had happened. The poor child was fighting for her soul
against great odds.
"It's a conspiracy to get me round to your way of thinking. You
want me to be a pro-German like yourselves, and I won't be a pro-
German, and I think it wicked even to talk to pro-Germans!"
She rose, all sobs, fluster, and heroism, and walked away.
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