Part 49 (1/2)
Her back stiffened again.
”Lucas! you promised to be sensible.”
He smiled down at her.
”I have the sense to marry you--and do it at once, too!”
She jumped up.
”Lucas!”
”Jean!”
He held her fast.
”You may be strong enough to hold me,” she panted, ”but you aren't strong enough to marry me against my will!”
”But why shouldn't we? Why the mischief, why the d.i.c.kens, why the devil not?”
”Because you'd be bankrupt in a month. You've _no_ sense, dear. Do get that into your head. By your own admission you have only just begun to sell your pictures. Wait and see whether it lasts--wait for a couple of years--”
”A couple of--! I won't, and that's flat!”
”One year, then.”
”Twelve months? I can't, Jean.”
”You must!”
”Daren't you risk it now?”
She drew herself back a little.
”Lucas, that isn't fair. I dare do _anything_--except come to you without a penny, and probably ruin you. If I had even twenty pounds a year to bring you, I'd risk it; but you know quite well that if I marry against Andrew's wishes any time within seven years I forfeit everything.”
”If I killed Andrew,” asked the painter grimly, ”who would his money go to?”
”Wait!” she said, her spirit smiling through her eyes. ”Don't you trust father to help us somehow--some time or other?”
He twisted his mustache desperately upwards.
”I want to help myself.”
She smiled openly now.
”You can't be trusted yet; you're so greedy!”
He laughed, but a little wryly.