"Touch wood before you boast," but she stopped and caught me by the arm.
"What do you mean, honey?" she questioned. "Has Alfred—"
"No, indeed. I don't mean anything except that I am at the age of Eve and—very hopeful."
"Well, you know what we all think of Alfred," she said, then stopped still at the lower step and broke off a dead twig from a rosebush near by. A shaft of light was shining from the hall and I could see that her face was very earnest. It was the first time in my life she had ever spoken to me of lovers.
"And I think everything of Alfred that you do—and more," I assured her, "but I am not in love with him. I might be—if—under other circumstances——I might be, but not now!"
She deliberately lingered at the steps, and we heard pleasant sounds coming from the dining-room.
"Eunice and I fancied that Mr. Chalmers looked at you—er, rather attentively the other day," she ventured timidly, as if to try to draw me out, yet dreading a little the answer I might make.
"That might have been imagination," I parried.
"But—we also imagined that you looked at him."
"Well," I answered with a laugh which I hoped would sound light, "haven't you just said that I am a star-gazer?"