“Must you really know?”
“I wish to know.”
There was a pause. Miss Barfoot kept her eyes on the page open before her.
“Then I shall take the liberty of an old friend, Rhoda. Why do you wish to know?”
“Mr. Barfoot,” answered the other dryly, “has been good enough to say that he is in love with me.”
Their eyes met.
“I suspected it. I felt sure it was coming. He asked you to marry him?”
“No, he didn’t,” replied Rhoda in purposely ambiguous phrase.
“You wouldn’t allow him to?”
“At all events, it didn’t come to that. I should be glad if you would let me know what I asked.”