“I want to know if you’re engaged to him!”
“No!” she cried and lifting her face close to his for the shortest instant possible, she gave him a look half merry, half defiant, but all fond. It was an adorable look.
“Lucy!” he said huskily.
But she turned quickly from him, and ran to the other end of the room. He followed awkwardly, stammering:
“Lucy, I want—I want to ask you. Will you—will you—will you be engaged to me?”
She stood at a window, seeming to look out into the summer darkness, her back to him.
“Will you, Lucy?”
“No,” she murmured, just audibly.
“Why not?”
“I’m older than you.”