“Talk about edgywedged tools,” he said, resuming his seat. “Supposing I’d said ‘D-d-done!’—all quick like, with bulging eyes. . . .”
Athalia laughed.
“I should have found a way,” she murmured. “And now go on—ask me. There’s still five minutes to go.”
“As you please,” said Punch. “Why does one like to make sure?”
“Because, so far as I’m concerned, there are only two starters for the Athalia Stakes—and you’re one of them.”
“Athalia!”
“Wait. I’ll be perfectly straight with you. I’ve had one or two proposals—most women have. But as yet I haven’t had one from . . . the man I love.” Her companion started. “That’s often the way, you know. Perhaps I shall never have it. Many women don’t. . . . But oh”—she laced her slight fingers, set them against her cheek and raised her eyes ecstatically—“oh, I hope I shall, Punch. If you knew what it meant to me! I’ld be so awfully happy. . . .”
“Well, I—I hope you will, too,” said Fairfax dismally. “I—I do really. . . . But what are you telling me this for?”
“Because you can help me. You see, he is such a dear, but, though we’re quite good friends, the idea of falling in love with me doesn’t seem to have entered his head. And, if he saw us together, I think it might make him think.”
Fairfax laughed hysterically.