"Do you doubt that I take this seriously?"
"I have doubted it, I must admit.... Suppose this house-party comes to nothing, what do you mean to do?"
The former heroine of the write-ups did not answer him at once. She sat in a straight chair, half-sidewise, a considerable distance away; her arm was laid along the chair-back, her cheek sunk upon her hand. Something in the pose made the caller think of Donald's exaggerated statement, that he had never seen Mary so blue in his life.
When she spoke, it was not again to suggest, offhand, that he should save Donald by stepping in.
"You are right, of course," she said with a certain dignity herself. "I haven't been thinking of it as seriously as I should—evidently. Now—if this doesn't come to anything—I'll need some time to plan about it."
"It's going to be rather troublesome, I'm afraid. And you—I—"
"I'll make it my chief interest, you may be sure."
Then the stiff caller, examining his shirt-cuff as if he had never seen such an object before, released his logical comment:
"But I'm afraid you haven't left yourself a great deal of time, have you? Two weeks may prove rather a small allowance—for a difficult matter like this."
"Oh, I—hope there will be time enough. Meantime, I—"