"Of—of course 'tis true, but h-how dared he say so?"
"Di, my love, you really are in love with that boy?"
"I—I—I asked him to marry me—and he wouldn't!"
"Good gracious heavens!" Miss Betty was genuinely horrified. "My dear Diana!"
"N-not outright—b-but he understood—and—he loves me! And I'd do it again to-morrow, if I could—immodest or no! So there!"
"Yes, yes," soothed Miss Betty hastily. "Tell me all about it." Diana lifted her head.
"That's all. And he loves me—he does—he does!"
"Did he say so?"
"N-no—but I could tell. And I love him"—sob—"and I'd sooner die than live without him, and he won't ask me b-because he has not got a spotless p-past, and he'd be a cur, and horrid things, and my husband must not be an—an—outcast, and-and—and I don't care!"
Her bewildered aunt unravelled this with difficulty.