Yet he not unnaturally, in spite of my explanation, continued to wonder. "And—a—where is it then you meet?"
"Oh, in the drawing-room or the hall. So good-night."
He got up to it, moving with me to the door; but his mystification, little as I could, on the whole, soothe it, still kept me. "The household sits up for you?"
I wondered myself, but found an assurance. "She must have squared the household! And it won't probably take us very long."
His mystification frankly confessed itself, at this, plain curiosity. The ground of such a conference, for all the point I had given his ingenuity, simply baffled him. "Do you mean you propose to discuss with her——?"
"My dear fellow," I smiled with my hand on the door, "it's she—don't you see?—who proposes."
"But what in the world——?"
"Oh, that I shall have to wait to tell you."
"With all the other things?" His face, while he sounded mine, seemed to say that I must then take his expectation as serious. But it seemed to say also that he was—definitely, yes—more at a loss than consorted with being quite sure of me. "Well, it will make a lot, really——!" But he broke off. "You do," he sighed with an effort at resignation, "know more than I!"
"And haven't I admitted that?"