instant it seemed cruel that he should have heard it in this way,—that I should not have been the one to break it to him, and to take the sting out of it; then came the thought that it was better so, for I felt instinctively that I should never have had courage to tell him. But the beating of my heart was almost painful, as I replied, "I wish you would tell me what the important communication was."
He went on calmly:—
"Have you, as she says, given Thurber a half-promise to marry him?"
"Oh!" I remonstrated, "he did not say anything about marrying. I only promised to think of an engagement."
My companion smiled rather sadly, as he looked at my flushed face.
"Engagements lead to marriage, and are just as binding," he said.
"I don't understand how you can think that."
"A woman has no right to engage herself to a man whom she does not intend to marry," George responded slowly; "and it seems to me that one ought to hold an engagement as sacred as a marriage. Don't you think so?" (looking at me inquiringly).
"Certainly," said I emphatically. "Still, it is not really as binding."
He shook his head in disapproval.
"It should be. A promise should be as binding as the law."
My heart sank as I realized for the first time that I
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