The day had been a trying one for Harmony. What she chose to
consider Peter's defection was a fresh stab. She glanced from
McLean, flushed and excited, to Peter's impassive back. Then she
sat down, rather limp, and threw out her hands helplessly.
"What am I to do?" she demanded. "Every one comes with cruel
things to say, but no one tells me what to do."
Peter turned away from the window.
"You can leave here," ventured McLean. "That's the first thing.
After that--"
"Yes, and after that, what?"
McLean glanced at Peter. Then he took a step toward the girl.
"You could marry me, Harmony," he said unsteadily. "I hadn't
expected to tell you so soon, or before a third person." He
faltered before Harmony's eyes, full of bewilderment. "I'd be
very happy if you--if you could see it that way. I care a great
deal, you see."
It seemed hours to Peter before she made any reply, and that her
voice came from miles away.
"Is it really as bad as that?" she asked. "Have I made such a
mess of things that some one, either you or Peter, must marry me
to straighten things out? I don't want to marry any one. Do I
have to?"
"Certainly you don't have to," said Peter. There was relief in
his voice, relief and also something of exultation. "McLean, you
mean well, but marriage isn't the solution. We were getting along
all right until our friends stepped in. Let Mrs. Boyer howl all
over the colony; there will be one sensible woman somewhere to
come and be comfortable here with us.
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