“Supposing it was the only lip-stick I had?”
“Nothing doing,” said Fairfax.
“Supposing I said that if you got it out I’ld marry you?”
“Love doesn’t——”
“Don’t evade,” said Miss Choate. “There’s another ten minutes to go.”
Fairfax looked at her.
Silhouetted against the black of an old bureau, the delicate features looked especially beautiful. The smooth brow, the straight clean-cut nose, the sweet droop of the mouth—from temples to pert chin my lady’s face was a picture for men to kneel to.
Her squire covered his eyes.
“Rot it,” he said shakily. “I—I believe I should have a dart.”
Athalia permitted herself to smile.