Her mother stayed in the garden and nervously thought out the lunch.
Winn seized the basket out of Estelle’s hands, took her by the wrists, and drew her to the window.
She wasn’t frightened of him, but she pretended to be. She said, “Oh, Major Staines!” She looked as soft and innocent as a cream-fed kitten. Winn cleared his throat. It made him feel rather religious to look at her. He did not of course see her as a kitten; he saw her approximately as an angel.
“Look here,” he said, “my name’s Winn.”
“You’re hurting my wrists,” she murmured. He dropped them. “Winn,” she said under her breath.
“I say,” he said after a moment’s pause, “would you mind marrying me?”
Estelle lifted her fine China blue eyes to his. They weren’t soft, but they could sometimes look very mysterious.
“Oh,” she said, “but, Winn — it’s so sudden — so soon!”
“Leave’s short,” Winn explained, “and besides, I knew the moment I looked at you, I wanted you. I don’t know how you feel, of course; but — well — I’m sure you aren’t the kind of girl to let a fellow kiss you, are you, and mean nothing?”
Estelle’s long lashes swept her cheeks; she behaved exquisitely. She was, of course, exactly that kind of girl.