Still amused, interested, and contentedly secure, therefore, Mr. Donald Estey pursued for another week his pleasant pastime of finding just the proper pigeonhole for this tantalizing will-o'-the-wisp of femininity; then, sharply, he received a jolt that left him figuratively—almost literally—breathless and gasping.
They were talking of marriage.
"But you yourself have never married," she said.
"No, I have never married."
"I wonder why."
Mr. Donald Estey frowned and stirred restlessly—there were times when Mrs. Darling's unconventionality was not "refreshing."
"Perhaps—the right girl has never found me," he shrugged.
"Oh, Mr. Estey, please, what sort of a girl would be the right one—for you?"
"Well, really—er—" He stopped and stirred again uneasily—there was an almost frenzied earnestness in her face and manner that was somewhat disconcerting.
"That might be hard telling," he evaded banteringly.