"But I don't--Good Heavens!--I don't expect you to care for--for overalls----"

"Then why do you wear them?" she asked in tremulous indignation.

The young man, galvanized, sprang from his chair and began running about, taking little, short, distracted steps. "Either," he said, "I need mental treatment immediately, or I'll wake up toward morning.... I--don't know what you're trying to say to me. I came here to--to p-paste----"

"That machine sent you!" she said. "The minute I got a spark you started----"

"Do you think I'm a motor? Spark! Do you think I----"

"Yes, I do. You couldn't help it; I know it was my own fault, and this-- _this_ is the dreadful punishment--g-glued to a t-table top--with a man named George----"

"What!!!"

"Yes," she said pa.s.sionately, "everything disobedient I have done has brought lightning retribution. I was forbidden to go into the laboratory; I disobeyed and--you came to hang wall paper! I--I took a b-book--which I had no business to take, and F-fate glues me to your horrid table and holds me fast till a man named George comes in...."

Flushed, trembling, excited, she made a quick and dramatic gesture of despair; and a ripping sound rent the silence.

"_Are you pasted to that table?_" faltered the young man, aghast.

"Yes, I am. And it's utterly impossible for you to aid me in the slightest, except by pretending to ignore it."

"But you--you can't remain there!"

"I can't help remaining here," she said hotly, "until you go."

"Then I'd better----"

"No! You shall _not_ go! I--I won't have you go away--disappear somewhere in the city. Certainty is dreadful enough, but it's better than the awful suspense of knowing you are somewhere in the world, and are sure to come back sometime----"

"But I don't want to come back!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Why should I wish to come back? Have I said--acted--done--looked--_Why_ should you imagine that I have the slightest interest in anything or in--in--anybody in this house?"

"Haven't you?"

"No!... And I cannot ignore your--your amazing--and intensely f-flattering fear that I have d-designs--that I desire--in other words, that I--er--have dared to cherish impossible aspirations in connection with a futile and absurd hope that one day you might possibly be induced to listen to any tentative suggestion of mine concerning a matrimonial alliance----"

He choked and turned a dull red.

She reddened, too, but said calmly:

"Thank you for putting it so nicely. But it is no use. Sooner or later you and I will be obliged to consider a situation too hopeless to admit of discussion."

"What situation?"

"Ours."

"I can't see any situation--except your being glued--I _beg_ your pardon!--but I must speak truthfully."

"So must I. Our case is too desperate for anything but plain and terrible truths. And the truths are these: _I_ touched the forbidden machine and got a spark; your name is George; _I'm_ glued here, unable to escape; _you_ are not rude enough to go when I ask you not to.... And now--here-- in this room, you and I must face these facts and make up our minds....

For I simply _must_ know what I am to expect; I can't endure--I couldn't live with this hanging over me----"

"_What_ hanging over you?"

He sprang to his feet, waving his dinner pail around in frantic circles:

"What is it, in Heaven's name, that is hanging over you?"

"Over _you_, too!"

"Over me?"

"Certainly. Over us both. We are headed straight for m-marriage."

"T-to _each other?_"

"Of course," she said faintly. "Do you think I'd care whom you are going to marry if it wasn't I? Do you think I'd discuss my own marital intentions with you if you did not happen to be vitally concerned?"

"Do _you_ expect to marry _me?_" he gasped.

"I--I don't _want_ to: but I've got to."

He stood petrified for an instant, then with a wild look began to gather up his tools.

She watched him with the sickening certainty that if he got away she could never survive the years of suspense until his inevitable return. A mad longing to get the worst over seized her. She knew the worst, knew what Fate held for her. And she desired to get it over--have the worst happen--and be left to live out the shattered remains of her life in solitude and peace.

"If--if we've got to marry," she began unsteadily, "why not g-get it over quickly--and then I don't mind if you go away."

She was quite mad: that was certain. He hastily flung some brushes into his tool kit, then straightened up and gazed at her with deep compa.s.sion.

"Would you mind," she asked timidly, "getting somebody to come in and marry us, and then the worst will be over, you see, and we need never, never see each other again."

He muttered something soothing and began tying up some rolls of wall paper.

"Won't you do what I ask?" she said pitifully. "I-I am almost afraid that--if you go away without marrying me I could not live and endure the--the certainty of your return."

He raised his head and surveyed her with deepest pity. Mad--quite mad!

And so young--so exquisite... so perfectly charming in body! And the mind darkened forever.... How terrible! How strange, too; for in the pure- lidded eyes he seemed to see the soft light of reason not entirely quenched.

Their eyes encountered, lingered; and the beauty of her gaze seemed to stir him to the very wellspring of compa.s.sion.

"Would it make you any happier to believe--to know," he added hastily, "that you and I were married?"

"Y-yes, I think so."

"Would you be quite happy to believe it?"

"Yes--if you call that happiness."

"And you would not be unhappy if I never returned?"