"Not unless he has chosen to tell anyone. I am not in the habit of publishing every offer I receive in the daily papers, which is one reason why some people suppose that I never get any."
"Then," said Agatha, thinking deeply, "I suppose, Lynn, you will not mind if I advise you not to—not to tell anyone? Do you remember what you said to me about those things—proposals and engagements and things, you know!—well, at the time I did say I thought it was foolish not to tell when people proposed to you because then lots of people, as you say, think you never get any—but since then I have changed my mind; I really think it is more sensible not to—particularly in your case where it would be so embarrassing for Mr. Lighton if he were attentive to some girl."
Lynn burst out laughing.
"I never in my life told on any man who was misguided enough to ask me to marry him. I have always felt that the pain of feeling that he had so lowered himself was punishment enough for any crime."
"Why, Lynn, I don't quite see what you mean," said Agatha, patient but bewildered.
"This is all I mean," said Lynn, gravely. "If you have any idea of going in for Lighton—and certainly his house is all that could be desired—why, don't feel as you walk up the aisle in veil and orange blossoms that I am whispering to my nearest acquaintance, 'I could have had that man if I had wanted him.'"
"But," said Agatha, timidly, "suppose such a thing did happen—it would not be very nice for you, Lynn, to think that people were saying that I had cut you out. That is the first thing that Mrs. Langham-Greene would think."
"I can think of nothing at the moment less likely to worry me than Mrs. Langham-Greene's thoughts concerning me."
"Oh, how queer you are!" said Agatha, opening her eyes widely. "Then, Lynn, if you should hear—well, anything! you won't mind. For there is still time for you to change your mind, you know; and really he's very fond of you, and his house"—
"Has only one drawback! Now don't dare to tell him I said that, Agatha, or"—