‘That is vague, Susan. Give it a voice. Better than—Bonnie? Oh no!’—quickly—‘I shouldn’t have asked that. Don’t answer it, my sweetheart,’ pressing her head against his breast. ‘We’ll take another. You love me better than you thought you would ever love anyone—tell me that, any way.’
‘Oh, much, much more,’ says she. She clings to him for a moment, then steps back, and a little air of meditation grows on her. ‘Do you know,’ says she in a low, rather ashamed tone, ‘about this very thing I have lately been very much surprised at myself.’
It is irresistible. Crosby bursts out laughing—such happy laughter!
‘What are you laughing at?’ asks Susan, a little nervously.
‘At you.’
‘At me?’
‘Yes; because you are just the sweetest angel, Susan. What sort of rings do you like best?’
Susan is silent for a moment, and now through all the rose-white of her skin a warm flush rises.
‘You are going to give me a ring?’ says she. ‘Do you know, I hadn’t thought of that. A ring! I have never had a ring!’
He draws her head softly down upon his breast.