"It was Mr. Eddie—him that owns the house," said Angelica.
"What did he want?"
"Oh, nothing!"
"Angie, tell your mother, deary. What made you cry?"
"I don’t know. I was nervous, I guess."
Her mother sighed.
"If you’ve made up your mind not to tell me—You know your own business best, I dare say; only, Angelica, I hope there’s nothing wrong about it—nothing that’s what it shouldn’t be?"
"No! If you really want to know, he wants to marry me."
She couldn’t conceal a sort of pride. After all, it was something!
Her mother was not garrulous, but this she couldn’t stop talking of; she couldn’t have enough of Eddie, no detail was too trivial. She wanted to have a complete description of his person and of his life.