"Perhaps proposals are like wisdom teeth, Fritz, and the slower they are coming, the more trouble they make. But don't forget that you aren't under any obligations to take either of these men. We were getting along fine before they thought of wanting to marry you, and if you say no to both of them, you and I will keep Old Maids' Hall and be happy ever after."
"I don't believe you're likely to remain single," objected Miss Finch with perfect simplicity. "It's a pity that nice Mr. Warren never came again. You could have had that man if you'd tried. Look at the chocolates he sent you, after only seeing you once, and that in your kitchen clothes."
"If my name must be either Kent or Warren, I'll stay an old maid to the end of my days."
"I don't see why you don't like the name Warren, Agatha, and I think Mrs. Ridgeley Warren sounds awfully nice. But you're the one to be pleased. It's a pity Mr. Forbes is so afflicted. If it wasn't for that he'd make a grand husband."
"Mr. Forbes' worst affliction at present," pronounced Agatha tartly, "is being very much in love with an absolutely heartless and generally despicable young woman named Julia."
"My gracious," lamented Miss Finch. "Nice prospect for him, ain't it?"
"Not so bad as you'd think. She's going to marry another man."
"Oh!" Miss Finch's limp hand came suddenly to life, found Agatha's fingers and squeezed them. "Maybe he'll get over it," she hinted.
"Maybe." Something in Agatha's tone suggested she was smiling.
"And then if he'd get his eyesight back, the way he expects to—"