"Ken," she said at last, in a small, far-away voice, "are you—are you—are you proposing to me?"
"I sure am!" and Kenneth's head nodded a firm assent; "the sooner you get that fact into your head, the better. Patty, DEAR little Patty, tell me,—don't keep me waiting——"
"But, Ken, I don't WANT to be proposed to,—and least of all, by YOU!"
"Patty, do you mean that?" and Harper's strained, anxious face took on a look of despair.
"Oh, no, NO, I don't mean THAT! At least, not in the way you think! I only mean we've been such good friends for so long, you're the last one I should think of marrying!"
"And who is the first one you think of marrying?"
Patty burst into laughter. "Oh, Ken, you're so funny when you're sarcastic! Don't be THAT, whatever you are!"
"I won't; Patty, darling, tell me you love me a little bit,—or just that you'll let me love you,—and I'll NEVER be sarcastic! I'll only be tender, and gentle, and loving,—and anything and everything you want me to be!"
"Can you?"
The eager light faded from Kenneth's eyes, as he answered: "No, I'm afraid I can't, dear. I know as well as you do, that I haven't the kind of gaiety you like in a man. I've told you this before. But, Patty,—you've so much of that,—don't you think you've enough for two?"