"Is that your bridge?" Pauline asked, with all the interest she could put into her voice.
He laughed for a long time.
"Pauline, you villain, it's the beginning of Margaret's face!"
She clapped her hands.
"Oh, Richard, aren't I a villain? But, you know, it's not very frightfully like anything, is it?"
"Pauline," he said, suddenly, in that sharp voice in which two years ago he had intrusted his interests to her before he went away—"Pauline, is Margaret going to marry me?"
"Why, of course she is, Richard!"
"Has she spoken to you about me?"
"But you know she never speaks about her own affairs and that she can't bear anybody else to speak of them to her."
"Then how do you know?" he asked.