"Tell me all, darling."
"I didn't know it was coming—of course. I couldn't think what he meant at first—and I was so full of—that, you know—but I found he was really in earnest. He says—says—he loves me!"—in a whisper. "And he wants me to marry him."
"And you said—?"
"I couldn't answer him at once. How could I—before I had spoken to you? I didn't know what to say; and it seemed so funny. Why, I'm only a child. I asked him to let me have till to-morrow; and he said he supposed I wanted to get used to the idea. And he told me to pity his suspense. But it does seem odd that he should care for me—for little Emmie Lucas! He is so clever and handsome, and everybody likes him."
"Including Emmie?"
"Yes. O yes—I like him." Emmie looked frankly up. "He is so nice and kind to poor father. I don't see how I could help liking him. I like him very much indeed. I should hate to do anything to give him pain."
"Sometimes to give a passing pain is the truest kindness. Emmie, the question really is not whether you like Sir Cyril, but whether you love him."
Emmie's face flushed all over again.
"But—"
"But what?"