Both Robin and Dolly turned upon me in real amazement. But I saw that this side-issue would interrupt the story.
"Never mind!" I said. "Go on! I'll explain afterwards."
"Well," continued Dolly, "he said to me—may I tell them, Robin?" She turned to the man beside her with a pretty air of deference. Robin, who up to this point had sat like a graven image, inclined his head, and Dolly proceeded—
"I have never told anybody about this—except Dilly, of course."
"I've got the letter still," said Dilly.
"Robin told me," Dolly went on, "that he wasn't going to ask me to marry him at present, because he had some childish idea—it is perfectly idiotic to think of; but—he thought he wasn't quite—well, good enough for me!"
"What rot!" said Dicky.
"Muck!" observed Gerald.
"But he said that he would ask me properly later on, as soon as he considered that he was good enough," continued Dolly. "And as he still seems to think," she concluded with more animation, "that he is not quite up to standard, it occurred to me to-night, as we were all here in a jolly little party, to notify him that he is. So I did. That's all. Robin, you are hurting my hand!"
Robin relaxed his grip at last, and remorsefully surveyed the bloodless fingers that lay in his palm. Then, with a rather shamefaced look all round the table, as much as to say—"I should like fine to restrain myself from doing this before you all, but I can't!"—he bent his head and kissed them in his turn.