He put his hand under her chin, and turned her face up to his own. "I'll tell you another time. At the present moment I want to talk about—getting married."
He spoke the last two words very softly, holding her close lest she should shrink away.
But Chris, with her eyes on his, kept still and silent in his arms. Only she turned rather white.
He continued with the utmost gentleness. "Your cousin is going to be married on the fifteenth of this month. Can't we arrange our wedding for the fifteenth of next?"
"The fifteenth!" said Chris. "Isn't that St. Swithin's Day?"
She spoke so briskly that even Mordaunt was for the moment taken by surprise.
"St. Swithin's Day!" he echoed. "Well, what of it?"
She broke into her gay laugh. "Oh, please not St. Swithin's Day! Just imagine if it rained!"
"Chris!" he said. "You're incorrigible!"
His arms had slackened, and she drew away from him, breathing rather quickly.