"You—you're not joshing me?" he gasped.
Joan put out quick hands as though to ward him off, suddenly afraid of the glow she had kindled in his face.
"Wait, Archie! I don't love you—you know that. Not as you love me, I mean. I don't believe I ever will love anybody that way. I—perhaps I'm not fine enough—But I do like you and trust you more than anybody else in the world. And so—if that's enough—If you want me—"
"Do I want you?" Archie gripped the edge of his chair to keep himself anchored to terra firma. "Say, Miss Darcy, I—I—"
"Don't you think," she suggested with a quivering smile, "that as we are about to become engaged, you might begin to call me 'Joan'?"
At that, with a great cry of "JOAN!" he gave up hold on the chair and terra firma together.
The sound of the overturned chair brought Effie May on a reconnoitering expedition to the upper landing of the stairs, which commanded an unsuspected view of the library. What she saw caused her to tiptoe away, smiling to herself a little sadly.
"His mouth's stopped all right—" she thought (with perfect truth)—"now that it doesn't matter!"