The violence of Agatha's start indicated an almost uncomplimentary incredulity.
"You are—what did you say, Fritz?"
"I'm—I'm going to be married."
"For heaven's sake! Who is it?"
Miss Finch's manner lost something of its assurance.
"I haven't quite—made up my mind."
Agatha's expression of astonishment changed quickly to consternation. She came close to the little lady, slipping a hand through her arm.
"Fritz, dear, hadn't you better come to the house and lie down? The sun is awfully hot, and you shouldn't have gone out without a hat." She studied Miss Finch's unnatural color with a sinking heart. Was it a touch of the sun or something worse?
Miss Finch, though perfectly aware of the nature of Agatha's apprehensions, showed no resentment. Indeed the difficulty she had experienced in combating her own incredulity enabled her to sympathize with her young friend's perplexity.
"When I say I haven't made up my mind, I mean I haven't decided which one to marry."