"Yes, I know," deprecated the May Girl. "It's because I'm so tall, I suppose——"
Before the unallayed breathlessness of my expression she wilted like a worried flower.
"Yes, of course, I know, Mrs. Delville," she acknowledged, "that mock marriages aren't considered very good taste . . . But a mock engagement?" she wheedled. "If it's conducted, oh, very—very—very properly?" Her eyes were wide with pleading.
"Oh, of course," I suggested, "if it's conducted very— very—very properly!"
Across the May Girl's lovely pink and white cheeks the dark lashes fringed down.
"There—will—be—no—kissing, affirmed the May Girl.
"Oh, Shucks!" protested young Kennilworth. "Now you've spoiled everything."
Out of the corner of one eye I saw Rollins nudge Paul Brenswick. It was not a facetious nudge, but one quite markedly earnest. The whole expression indeed on Rollins's face was an expression of acute determination.
With laughter and song and a flicker of candlelight everybody filed up-stairs to bed.
Rollins carried his candle with the particularly unctuous pride of one who leads a torchlight procession. And as he turned on the upper landing and looked back, I noted that- behind the almost ribald excitement on his face there lurked a look of poignant wistfulness.