I called to her: "Dorothy, wait a moment. You have not heard all I have to
say."

She hastened her pace. A few rapid strides brought me to her side. I was
provoked, not at her words, for they were almost justifiable, but because
she would not stop to hear me. I grasped her rudely by the arm and
said:--

"Listen till I have finished."

"I will not," she answered viciously. "Do not touch me."

I still held her by the arm and said: "I do not wish to marry you. I spoke
only because your father desired me to do so, and because my refusal to
speak would have offended him beyond any power of mine to make amends. I
could not tell you that I did not wish you for my wife until you had given
me an opportunity. I was forced to throw the burden of refusal upon you."

"That is but a ruse--a transparent, flimsy ruse," responded the stubborn,
angry girl, endeavoring to draw her arm from my grasp.

"It is not a ruse," I answered. "If you will listen to me and will help me
by acting as I suggest, we may between us bring your father to our way of
thinking, and I may still be able to retain his friendship."

"What is your great plan?" asked Dorothy, in a voice such as one might
expect to hear from a piece of ice.

"I have formed no plan as yet," I replied, "although I have thought of