He laid his hand upon hers. "You can make it much," he said very gently.
"How, Trevor?"
"By marrying me," he said.
"Oh!" Her eyes fell instantly, and he saw the hot colour rise and overspread her face. "Oh, but not yet!" she said, almost imploringly. "Please, not yet!"
His own face changed a little, hardened almost imperceptibly, but he gave no sign of impatience. "In your own time, dear," he said quietly. "Heaven knows I should be the last to persuade you against your will."
"Aunt Philippa is always worrying me about it," she told him, with a catch in her voice. "And I—I—after all, I'm only twenty-one."
"What does she worry you for?" he said, a hint of sternness in his voice.
She glanced at him nervously. "Because—because I've no money. She says—she says—"
"Well, dear, what does she say?"
"I don't want to tell you," whispered Chris.