"Will I get out the handkerchief, do you mean?" he asked, looking at her with a curious gaze.
"Yes," she replied; "make me happy by throwing it."
"And suppose," he said, "that the favored damsel declines the honor?"
"We will risk that," she murmured, with a smile.
He laughed.
"One would think you had already chosen, mother," he said.
She looked at him, with the smile still shining in her eyes and on her lips.
"Suppose I have? There is no matchmaker like a mother."
He started.
"You have? You surprise me! May one ask on whom your choice has fallen, sultaness?"