He hesitated, blurted out the truth. "Speaking seriously, that isn't quite so," said he. "I've got my heart set on your making a great tear—and I know you'll do it."
"And if you knew I wouldn't, you'd not want to marry me?"
"I don't say that," protested he. "How can I say how I'd feel if you were different?"
She nodded. "That's sensible, and it's candid," she said. She laid her hand impulsively on his arm. "I DO like you, Stanley. You have got such a lot of good qualities. Don't worry. I'm not going to insist on your marrying me."
"You don't have to do that, Mildred," said he. "I'm staring, raving crazy about you, though I'm a damn fool to let you know it."
"Yes, it is foolish," said she. "If you'd kept me worrying— Still, I guess not. But it doesn't matter. You can protest and urge all you please, quite safely. I'm not going to marry you. Now let's talk business."
"Let's talk marriage," said he. "I want this thing settled. You know you intend to marry me, Mildred. Why not say so? Why keep me gasping on the hook?"
They heard the front door open, and the rustling of skirts down the hall. Mildred called:
"Mrs. Brindley! Cyrilla!"
An instant and Cyrilla appeared in the doorway. When she and Baird had shaken hands, Mildred said: