"My God, Sidney, I'm asking you to marry me!"
"I--I know that. I am asking you something else, Max."
"I have never been in love with her."
His voice was sulky. He had drawn the car close to a bank, and they were sitting in the shade, on the grass. It was the Sunday afternoon after Sidney's experience in the operating-room.
"You took her out, Max, didn't you?"
"A few times, yes. She seemed to have no friends. I was sorry for her."
"That was all?"
"Absolutely. Good Heavens, you've put me through a catechism in the last ten minutes!"
"If my father were living, or even mother, I--one of them would have done this for me, Max. I'm sorry I had to. I've been very wretched for several days."
It was the first encouragement she had given him. There was no coquetry about her aloofness. It was
