"I think I should."
The conversation was rather jerky and breathless.
"In two years I can have a farm," he said.
She was silent for some time. Then she looked into his eyes, with her queer, black, humble-seeming eyes. She was thinking of all the grandeur of being Mrs. Boyd Blessington. It attracted her a great deal. At the same time, something in her soul fell prostrate, when Jack looked straight into her. Something fell prostrate, and she couldn't help it. His eyes had a queer power in them.
"In two years I can have a farm—a good one," he said.
She only gazed into his eyes with her queer, black, fascinated gaze.
The dance was over. Aunt Matilda was tapping Jack's wrist with her fan and saying:
"Yes, Mr. Blessington, do be so good as to take Mary down to supper."
Supper was over. It was the twentieth dance. Jack had been introduced to a sporting girl in her late twenties. She treated him like a child, and talked quite amusingly. Tom called her a "barrack hack."
Mr. Blessington went by with Mary on his arm.