“If we have to?” echoed Barbara, with a straight look at him. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s a good bit of money—four thousand dollars. Perhaps some—er—philanthropical jay gave it to you outright, Barbie. I shouldn’t be so very much surprised.”
He laughed at the proud curl of her lips.
“You wouldn’t care, would you?” he persisted, “if some old duffer had taken it into his noddle to do a good deed? Once we are married, I shan’t bother to unearth him, you’d better believe. I’m in favor of letting sleeping philanthropists lie—eh, Barbie?”
“We’ll not be married,” Barbara said, in a low voice, “till——”
He caught her suddenly about the waist and stopped her words with one of his close kisses.
“You shan’t say it,” he murmured, his lips still on hers.
She twisted sharply out of his grasp, her face crimsoning slowly.
“I wish—you wouldn’t, David.”