"Perfectly," he said. Regardless of Miss Downing's presence, he added without a qualm: "I'm rather glad you've done it, Laura. It's saved me a lot of despair, I'm sure. You see, I came up to-night to propose to you."
She laughed easily, affecting no confusion. "And I might have accepted you. That's what you mean?"
"Well, you might have done worse. But you haven't," he added hastily. "Chauncey's a brick. I've approved of him from the start. Always wanted him to get you, Laura."
"It's nice of you to say that, Buzzy," she said, serious for an instant. Her fine eyes glowed. "I know you mean it, too. Others haven't been so generous." Then her manner changed. "Do you really have to marry some one, Buzzy? Are you so hard up as all that?"
"My dear," he said, "you are alarming Miss Downing."
"Nonsense! Miss Downing knows all about you and all about me. I have no secrets from her. She's not even wondering how you could have contemplated marrying me without loving me. She knows how rich I am."
"Ah," he sighed, "I wonder if she knows how poor I am."
"Every one knows that, Mr. Van Pycke," said Miss Downing. He stared. "You have a paltry twelve thousand a year. Even the street sweepers get more than that." Her sarcasm was veiled by a polite smile.
The bride laughed. He felt a sudden, inexplicable shame.
"Well, Buzzy, I can't stop here talking to you all night. We're leaving, you know, by the 11.30. Thanks, dear boy, for the thought that brought you up to-night, I appreciate the honor." She extended her hand. "Good luck, my friend. Try further up the street."