“Stephen!” and she looked at me in surprise. “And papa thought so too!” at which she laughed gayly.
“Isn’t it Stephen?” in blank amazement.
“Why, no, and mamma has not even hinted?”
“It cannot be Dick Fairlie,” I said wonderingly. “I am sure Jennie—”
“O you little goose! Now as there is just one other man left in the world you can surely guess.”
I looked at her with that peculiar mental blindness where one may see, but the thought is shaped to nothing.
“It is not—Winthrop Ogden.”
A great rift of scarlet rushed over her face. Her eyes were luminous with the dewiness of joy that misses tears, and her lips trembled.
“Oh Fanny!”
I could only take her in my arms and kiss her.