"I'm always laughing," he said grimly; "but I wish I hadn't been then. It was so serious that I couldn't be. But it's no good explaining that; you can't understand."
Her mind was set on something different—on something to her of more moment than a man's absurd reasons for being trivial. It was some time before she spoke.
"You asked her to marry you?" she pondered slowly, only half in question, as though scarcely able to realize what he had done.
"I did," he said; "how else should we be engaged?"
"Oh, dozens of ways," she answered: "she might have asked you."
"Well, she didn't," he said stoutly.
"I wonder if you know," she mused; "men don't. And did you want to marry her?"
"Would I have asked her otherwise?" he demanded.
"Oh, yes," she sighed; "very possibly. Men often propose because they can think of nothing else to say. And have you wanted to be married long?"
"What do you mean?" he said.