"Anyhow, I—I'll have to do it. Your father wasn't there at all."
"But I heard you speaking to him, my dear."
She shook her head, and stole a look into his face, then caught her breath with a little choking sob of heartache because he could not see the love she knew was in her eyes. But the heartache only nerved her to say the words that almost refused to come. "He—he wasn't there," she repeated, fencing for time.
"But who was there? I heard you call him by name, 'Mr. Burton,' clearly, distinctly. I know I did."
"But—but he wasn't there. Nobody was there. I—I was just talking to myself."
"You mean—practicing what you were going to say?" questioned Keith doubtfully. "And that—that he doesn't know yet that you are going to refuse him?"
"N-no—er—well, yes. That is, I mean, it's true. He—he doesn't know I am going to refuse him." There was a hint of smothered laughter in the girl's voice.
"Dorothy!" The arm about her waist perceptibly loosened and almost fell away. "Why, I don't feel now that—that you half belong to me, yet. And—and think of poor dad!"
The girl caught her breath and stole another look into his face.
"But, Keith, you—you don't understand. He—he hasn't proposed to me yet. That is, I mean," she amended hastily, "he—he isn't going to propose to me—ever."