"There comes my car. I'll not trouble you to
accompany me." She put out her hand. "Goodby." She did not realize
it, or intend it, but she had appealed to one of his powerful
instincts, a powerful instinct in all predatory natures--the
instinct to pursue whatever seems to be flying.
He shook his head at the motorman, who was bringing the car to a
halt; the car went on. He stood in front of her. Her color was
high, but she could not resist the steady compulsion of his eyes.
"I told you I wanted to talk with you," said he. "Do you know why
I was standing before that statue?"
"I do not," Margaret answered coldly.
"I was trying to get the courage to ask you to be my wife."
She gave a queer laugh. "Well, you seem to have got what you
sought," said she. He had, as usual, taken her wholly unawares.
"Not so fast," replied Craig. "I haven't asked you yet."
Margaret did not know whether she most wished to laugh or to burst
out in anger. "I'm sure I don't care anything about it, one way or
the other," said she.
"Why say those insincere things--to ME?" he urged. She had begun
to walk, and he was keeping pace with her. "Jackson," he
proceeded, "was a man of absolute courage.
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