I wriggled. "Why do you emphasise age so much?"
Cannington laughed, and I knew that he was thinking of my admiration of Miss Monk's photograph. "Vance doesn't like to be reminded of his age--now."
"Why now?" questioned Lady Mabel suspiciously.
"Oh, never mind," I said crossly. "What do you want my advice about?"
Our fair companion put down her cup in despair. "Haven't I been telling you for the last half hour. Mr. Marr wants to marry me. He asked me four days ago, and then came down to enlist Cannington on his side."
"Huh," said the boy, sagaciously, "that sounds as though you had refused him."
"No, I didn't."
"Then you accepted him."
"No, I didn't," she said again. "I left it an open question, until I consulted you and Cyrus. After all he is rich, and not bad-looking."
"Oh, Mabel," cried Cannington, rising to perambulate the narrow room, "you know very well that you love Dickey Weston."