“But I always felt as I grew older that I should some day ask you to be my darling little wife; and, come now, you always thought so too?”
“Yes, Harry, I always thought so too.”
“Ah, that’s right, dear,” said the young man, flushing. “You always were the dearest and most honest and plain-spoken girl I ever met.”
“I try to be.”
“Of course; and look yonder, there’s old Pradelle, the dearest and best friend a fellow ever had, talking to Louie as I’m talking to you.”
“Yes, I’m afraid he is.”
“Afraid? Oh, come now, don’t be prejudiced. I want you to like Victor.”
“That would be impossible.”
“Impossible! What, the man who will most likely be Louie’s husband?”
“Mr Pradelle will never be Louie’s husband.”