He'd never called me "Ellaline" before, but only "you," and this gave me rather a start, to begin with, so I said nothing. And, as it turned out, that was probably the best thing I could have done. If I'd said anything, it would have been the wrong thing, and then, perhaps, we should have started off with a misunderstanding.
"I should hate to have you think me unsympathetic," he went on. "I'm not. But—do you want to marry Dick Burden, some day?"
If he'd put it differently I might have hesitated what to answer, for I am afraid of Dick, there's no use denying it—of course, mostly on Ellaline's account, but a little on my own too, because I'm a coward, and don't want to be disgraced. As it was, I couldn't hesitate, for the thought of marrying Dick Burden would have been insupportable if it hadn't been ridiculous. So you see, I forgot to dread what Dick might do if he heard, and just blurted out the truth.
"I'd sooner go into a convent," said I.
"You mean that?" Sir Lionel pinned me down.
"I do," I repeated. "Could you imagine a girl wanting to marry Dick Burden?"
"No, I couldn't," said Sir Lionel. And then he laughed—such a nice, happy laugh, like a boy's, quite different from the way I have heard him laugh lately—though at first, in London, he seemed young and light-hearted. "But I'm no judge of the men—or boys—a girl might want to marry. Dick's good-looking, or near it."
"Yes," I admitted. "So is your little chauffeur. But I don't want to marry it."
"Are you flirting with Dick, then?" Sir Lionel asked, not sharply, but almost wistfully.
I couldn't stand that. I had to tell the truth, no matter for to-morrow!