"Very well—what is it?"
"You're twenty-eight—you don't mind my mentioning it, do you?" queried Mr. Lighton, tactfully. "You've always spoken so openly of it, yourself."
"Oh, I can never keep even the most damaging facts about myself hidden," said Lynn, solemnly.
"Eh?—what's that? Oh, well, never mind! What I wanted to say was this: Don't you mean to marry?"
"I haven't quite made up my mind, yet. Perhaps I may marry somebody a few years hence—but not you," she hastily added, seeing Mr. Lighton look up with sudden interest.
"Why not me?"
"I have told you twenty times over why not."
"And you're serious about it? You're sure you won't change your mind? Well, what I wanted to say was this. Suppose, a few years hence when you've decided that you will marry—now, you won't be offended?"
"I don't think I will. What you want to say is, what will I do if no one wants to marry me, then?"
"Yes," confessed Mr. Lighton, looking a little embarrassed but sticking to his guns, manfully. "You're an awfully stunning girl, but a girl often doesn't get another offer after thirty; and what if you don't?"