"If she thinks she wants to write, why can't she stick to covered wagons, and—"
"How stuffy of you!" said Heather.
Wesley Tatom felt uncertainly of his tie, tightened the knot.
"As a matter of curiosity," Jerry addressed his rival, "what makes you so sure Heather is going to marry you?"
"It's one of those taken-for-granted matters. We've gone together since—say! What business is it of yours, anyway!"
Now Heather, too, was watching Wesley's necktie.
"I don't think women like to be taken for granted," Jerry said.
One end of the necktie became longer and longer as its opposite end shortened. With a final but quiet jerk, the necktie came free, hesitated for a moment opposite Wesley's belt buckle, then folded itself neatly and floated away.
Heather giggled. "Were you laughing at me?" Wesley demanded,
"Heather," said Jerry, "will you marry me?"