He watched her steadily for a minute, while she set half a dozen hasty stitches in the long ruffle she was hemming. Then he deliberately put his hand over hers.
“It’s too dark to sew,” he objected, “and I can’t talk to you when your eyes are glued to that piece of cloth.”
Barbara folded up her work with quick motions of her slim brown fingers. Then she raised her eyes to his.
“Well?” she said interrogatively.
“It isn’t anything new, Barbara,” he said. “Just the same old request. When will you marry me, dear?”
“I’ve told you, David, over and over. I can’t make any promises till—till——”
He frowned and shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
“I know,” he interrupted quickly. “But why object on the score of that absurd contract? Why, Barbara, I’ll go with you and work for nothing. Two slaves will be better than one. I’m a husky chap, capable of trundling the lawnmower, shaking down the furnace, shovelling snow, or any little job of the sort. Don’t you think your widower would appreciate my free services?”
Barbara refused to smile.
“Why,” she asked, “should you suppose it is a man?”