She went through a night of misery.
On the morrow her betrothed, of course, came to see her.

Woman-like, she had taken refuge in a resolve of postponement; the marriage must be sooner or later, but it was in her power to put it off.

And, with show of regretful prudence, she made known this change in her mind.
"I hardly knew what I was saying.

I ought to have remembered that our acquaintance has been very short." "Yet long enough to enable me to win your promise," urged Glazzard.
"Yes, I have promised.

It's only that we cannot be married so very soon." "I must, of course, yield," he replied, gracefully, kissing her hand.
"Decision as to the time shall rest entirely with you." "Thank you--that is very kind." He went away in a mood of extreme discontent.