"You care for me, don't you?
You don't think I'd sit here and plead with you if I didn't care for you?
I'm crazy about you, and that's the literal truth.
You're like wine to me.
I want you to come with me.
I want you to do it quickly.
I know how difficult this family business is, but you can arrange it.
Come with me down to New York.
We'll work out something later.
I'll meet your family.
We'll pretend a courtship, anything you like—only come now."
"You don't mean right away, do you?" she asked, startled.
"Yes, to-morrow if possible.
Monday sure.
You can arrange it.
Why, if Mrs. Bracebridge asked you you'd go fast enough, and no one would think anything about it.
Isn't that so?"
"Yes," she admitted slowly.
"Well, then, why not now?"
"It's always so much harder to work out a falsehood," she replied thoughtfully.
"I know it, but you can come.
Won't you?"
"Won't you wait a little while?" she pleaded.
"It's so very sudden.
I'm afraid."
"Not a day, sweet, that I can help.
Can't you see how I feel?
Look in my eyes.
Will you?"
"Yes," she replied sorrowfully, and yet with a strange thrill of affection.
"I will."
CHAPTER XXIII
The business of arranging for this sudden departure was really not so difficult as it first appeared.
Jennie proposed to tell her mother the whole truth, and there was nothing to say to her father except that she was going with Mrs. Bracebridge at the latter's request.
He might question her, but he really could not doubt Before going home that afternoon she accompanied Lester to a department store, where she was fitted out with a trunk, a suit-case, and a traveling suit and hat.
Lester was very proud of his prize.
"When we get to New York I am going to get you some real things," he told her.
"I am going to show you what you can be made to look like."
He had all the purchased articles packed in the trunk and sent to his hotel.
Then he arranged to have Jennie come there and dress Monday for the trip which began in the afternoon.
When she came home Mrs. Gerhardt, who was in the kitchen, received her with her usual affectionate greeting.
"Have you been working very hard?" she asked.
"You look tired."
"No," she said, "I'm not tired.
It isn't that.
I just don't feel good."
"What's the trouble?"
"Oh, I have to tell you something, mamma. It's so hard."
She paused, looking inquiringly at her mother, and then away.
"Why, what is it?" asked her mother nervously.