"Strolling?" he asked in vacuous tones.
She answered with a nod that was not meant to encourage.
"I might go along?" he suggested.
"You might, I suppose."
Rosalind once more sought the cool softness of the grass underfoot, with the tall and evidently preoccupied Englishman at her elbow.
"Oh, I say, Miss Chalmers," he exclaimed abruptly after they had walked in silence for several minutes.
"Yes?"
"Would you—er—do you think you could—er—marry me?"
Rosalind eyed him with frank astonishment. A smile trembled on her lips, but she did not allow it to blossom.
"I—er—love you tremendously, you know, Miss Chalmers."