"
The little fire had gone out. Beatrice glanced at the clock and
put on her jacket again.
"I am sorry, Leonard," she said, "but I think I must go and fetch
father now. You can walk with me there, if you will. It has
been very good to see you again. For the rest I don't know what
to say to you. Do you think that it is quite what you were meant
for--to build boats?"
"I don't seem to have any other ambition," he answered, wearily.
"When I read in the paper this morning that you and your father
were here, things seemed suddenly different. I came at once. I
didn't know what I wanted until I saw you, but I know now, and it
isn't any good."
"No good at all," she declared cheerfully. "It won't be very
long, Leonard, before something else comes along to stir you. I
don't think you were meant to build boats all your life."
He rose and took up his hat. She was waiting for him at the
door. Again they passed down the narrow street.
"Tell, me, Beatrice," he begged, "is it because you don't like me
well enough that you won't listen to what I ask?"
For a moment she half closed her eyes as though in pain. Then
she laughed, not perhaps very naturally. They were standing now
by the door of the public house.
"Leonard," she said, "you are very young in years but you are a
baby in experience. Mind, there are other reasons why I could
not--would not dream of marrying you, other reasons which are
absolutely sufficient, but--do you know that you have asked me
twice and you have never once said that you cared, that you have
never once looked as though you cared? No, don't, please," she
interrupted, "don't explain anything.
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