"Twenty-one," she told him.
"Well, then! You don't mind my asking, do you? Hasn't any man ever wanted you to belong to him before?"
"You mean asked me to marry them?"
"Yes."
"Why, yes," she admitted with her crystal straightness. "Men, proposed to me? Why, stacks of them! But they didn't do it that way."
She looked back and out to sea, as though she could see on the other side of that severing Atlantic the half-score of her splendid young countrymen who had offered her marriage as tribute is offered to a young queen.
"You are—queer people over here," she said softly.
"Queer?"
"The way you talk of 'belonging.'"
"Queer, if it's the right man and the girl he wants?" Jack Awdas asked.