“No, no!” she said, and she pushed him away, withdrawing her hand. “George, let’s not talk of solemn things.”
“‘Solemn things!’ Like what?”
“Like—being engaged.”
But George had become altogether jubilant, and he laughed triumphantly. “Good gracious, that isn’t solemn!”
“It is, too!” she said, wiping her eyes. “It’s too solemn for us.”
“No, it isn’t! I—”
“Let’s sit down and be sensible, dear,” she said. “You sit over there—”
“I will if you’ll call me, ‘dear’ again.”
“No,” she said. “I’ll only call you that once again this summer—the night before you go away.”
“That will have to do, then,” he laughed, “so long as I know we’re engaged.”