“Still asleep?” said Mary, as she returned.
“Yes,” said Claude, looking in a troubled way from one to the other; but the doctor seemed to be so very calm that she felt ashamed of the uneasy sensation which was troubling her, and, telling herself that she was foolishly nervous, she joined in the conversation. Then Mary sang a song, which the doctor insisted upon being repeated.
“I always felt and said that if ever I married it would be a lady with a charming voice.”
“Well,” said Mary sharply, “every one says I have a charming voice.”
“You have indeed,” said the doctor enthusiastically.
“I need have something charming about me by way of compensation,” cried Mary, as she made a grimace. “Perhaps, Doctor Asher, you had better propose for me.”
“Mary!” exclaimed Claude, flushing up to the roots of her hair.
“I don’t mean it, dear,” said Mary demurely. “The tongue is an unruly member, you know.”
“Well,” said the doctor, as he leaned back in his chair, with his eyes half closed, “some young ladies do not object to marrying a man thirty years their senior. Why not?”
“Shall I stand up and walk round, so that you may see all my graces and action?” said Mary banteringly.