He was really thirty-five.
"There are but three years between us," he resumed. "Shall three years separate us?"
"You do not look thirty-eight."
"Nor you forty-one," returned Major Ashton.
"Heaven forgive me for the lie!" he said, sotto voce.
"What would Grace—what would the world say?" asked the widow, coyly.
"Why need we care what either will say? Possibly Miss Dearborn may regret her decision, but it will be too late. I would not resign you now for her."
"Are you sincere in this, major?" asked Mrs. Sheldon, with gratified vanity.
"Shall I swear it, my dear one?"
"No; I will believe you, though it seems strange to me that you should prefer me to one so young and fair."