“I’d hardly be guilty of the impertinence of either approving or disapproving.”
“Frankness wouldn’t be impertinence—between you and me. At least, that’s the way I feel about it. Do you really approve of—of marriage for—for other reasons than love?”
“Heartily.”
A long silence. Then she, with an effort: “When I got back home night before last all that happened up there seemed unreal—absolutely unreal—like a dream.”
“Even the biscuit and the chocolate?”
“Even you,” she replied.
Her tone made his wandering attention concentrate, made him glance swiftly at her.
She smiled. “Don’t be alarmed,” said she. “There’s not the slightest cause.”
“Sure?” inquired he jestingly. “You see, I’m not used to young girls—American girls. You talk so freely. If I weren’t an American I’d misunderstand.”
“What would it matter if you did?” retorted she.