“I—I—” he stammered. “I banished your memory. It was my only refuge. I should not have learned the little German I did. I should have followed you—”
“I am glad that you did not. I was such a little goose—”
“You were enchanting!”
She shook her head. “But only for two weeks! Otherwise, German or not, you would have followed. Even now, I am afraid you think me stupid; but at least I have learned not to bore people when they can listen to mother. Besides, she does not approve of girls talking very much. But I have thought of ten thousand things I should love to talk to you about. Books? Oh, that is only one. Of course I cannot think of any of them now. That is always the way.”
“You might have given me a glance once in a while to let me know you recognized my existence! I have always been made to feel that I was exclusively your mother’s friend.”
“Well—” She lifted her shoulder in the French manner which expresses many words. Then her eyes discarded coquetry and became sombre. “One hates the idea of being put on exhibition. That was spared me until you came. But of course you know—you would be a fool if you didn’t—that mother is dying to have us marry. That is enough to make a girl hate a man. But now that I can see you don’t care a bit about it, I like you much better.” And she rewarded him with the sweetest smile he had ever seen.
Ordham was cold from head to foot, but he answered steadily: “But I do care about it. I want to marry you very much.”
“Oh!” She pouted until her lips looked so kissable that Ordham flushed darkly. Then she became dignified and reserved once more. It was as if she dropped a veil before all that was still too young in her, and became the maiden of many millions and superior mind. But he saw that she clenched her hands in a fold of her gown to keep them from shaking.
“Are you proposing?” she asked gently.
“Is that the tone you assume when about to refuse a man?”