Roger thought he could detect a teardrop forming in one of her eyes. "You told me about your ex-husband," he said in a soothing tone. "I mean, if you're reluctant because of your bad experience with him, I can understand. But darling, I'm not like him. I'm not the kind who will beat you or take a belt to you. I want to cherish you, not hurt you."

"If… If you were like that beast, I wouldn't be up here with you, Roger. No, it's not so much because of him…"

"What then?" he asked plaintively. "You don't even like me, is that it?"

"I didn't say that! I couldn't say that!" she replied sincerely. She tried to think of something to say, something besides the truth that would inalterably kill any chance of them ever being together. "It's a reason of my own, and I simply can't tell you… yet." A hurting lump crept into her throat, and she could only stammer, never having felt so inadequate in her life. "I… I wish I could explain better; but… but I simply can't, Roger. I'm terribly, terribly sorry, believe me…"

"Well, I guess if you say no, you mean no," he said, shaking his head sadly. He managed a feeble grin, even though his insides were churning in a bath of miserable dejection. "Have some more wine, at least."

Miriam watched him pour the wine into their glasses with apprehension. Already she'd consumed too much of the first bottle they'd shared during the picnic lunch, and she was feeling a little giddy and hot. She had to keep her head today, and behave properly… and spirits of any kind affected her quickly. "I really don't think I should have any more," she said as Roger pressed the glass into her hand.

"Don't be silly, darling," he responded in a falsely bantering tone. "Let's have a toast to the most gorgeous woman in the world, you!" He raised his glass and saluted the lovely youthfully appearing woman beside him. "May she soon become my wife."