“What do you mean?” said Miriam interested. This was the novel going on....
She must read it through even at this strange moment ... this moment was the right setting to read through Gerald that little exciting far-away finished thing of the morning, to know that it had been right. She felt decked. Gerald stood confronting her and spoke low, fingering the anemones in her belt. The others were talking. Harriett in high short laughing sentences, the man gasping and moaning his replies, making jerky movements. He was not considering his words, but looking for the right, appropriate things to say. Miriam rejoiced over him as she smiled encouragingly at Gerald.
“Well, my dear, he wanted to know—who you were; and he swears he’s going to be engaged to you before the year is out.”
“What abominable cheek,” said Miriam, flushing with delight. Then she had taken the right line. How easy. This was how things happened.
“No, my dear, he didn’t mean to be cheeky.”
“I call it the most abominable cheek.”
“No you don’t”; Gerald was looking at her with fatherly solicitude. “That’s what he said anyhow—and he meant it. Ask Harry.”
“Frivolous young man.”
“Well, he’s an awful flirt, I warn you; but he’s struck this time—all of a heap ... came and raved about you the minute he’d seen you, and when he heard you were Harry’s sister that’s what he said.”
“I’m sure I’m awfully obliged to his majesty.”