She turned from the fire and faced him.
“When is it your intention for our marriage to take place?”
Lacour was suspicious again. This astounding eagerness must be the result of some information she had received; she dreaded to lose him. Did not her desire about the settlement somehow depend upon the same cause?
“Surely I have no interest in putting it off,” he said, his head a little on one side, his most delicate smile in full play.
“But you think it had better not be before the summer?”
“Is not that best? I have no will but yours, Ada.”
“I think,” she replied slowly, “that it shall be, not this summer, but the summer of next year.”
“A year and a half still? For whatever reason?” he cried.
“I shall come of age then,” she continued, looking past him with vague eyes. “I need consult no one then about my wishes.”
“My dear Ada, you surely do not think I hesitated——”