"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
Patricia looked up. This was the first time Bowen had used the diminutive of her name. Somehow it sounded very intimate.
"I am afraid I have an—an"
The hesitation was her undoing.
"No; don't tell me fibs, please. You will dine with me and then, afterwards, we will go on and see the mater. She is dying to know you."
How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years, and and how different everything might have been if Patricia was awakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:
"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"
"No, I—I've just told you I am engaged," she said.
"And I've just told you that I won't allow you to be engaged to anyone but me," was Bowen's answer. "If you won't come and dine with me I'll come and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out to get rid of me. You know, Patricia, I'm an awful fellow when I've set my mind on anything, and I'm simply determined to marry you whether you like it or not."
"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."
"I'll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."
"Very well," said Patricia wearily. It seemed ridiculous to try and fight against her fate, and
