"But I'm sure he did mean—" I began, and stopped again.
"Did mean what?" said she.
"He did call me 'his own little Kitty,'" I whispered, in a shamefaced way. Mother's questioning put my promise out of my head again. I was getting to feel all in a whirl.
"And you let him!" said she.
I shan't soon forget the quiet tone, and the contempt of it.
"You let him call you that, before even he'd asked if you would marry him!" says mother.
"I thought—he seemed—" I whispered.
"There you are again, with your thinking and seeming," said she. "Nothing open nor aboveboard."
"He did say—something," I muttered. "He did say something—something about—he hoped some day—and if he was to ask me—"
"If he was to ask you what?" says she.