"Oh, Alec!" cried Elsa springing away from him. "Whatever do you mean? You can't mean what you say."
"No, Elsa. I don't. I am distressed beyond measure about your father. But if your father is in such bad condition financially, you wouldn't call him rich any longer, would you?"
"Rich! Why, Alec, we'll soon be paupers. That's the very word father used."
"Then if you are a pauper, Elsa, you wouldn't think me a fortune-hunter if I asked you a question that's been in my heart for months, would you?"
"I—I—I don't know," faltered Elsa. "How can I know when you haven't even asked me?" But her tone showed very plainly that she knew.
"Are you sure you want me to ask you?" said Alec, raising her face with his hand and looking straight into her eyes. "I'll wait—if you wish it."
"Please—ask me," she said.
Alec bent his head and whispered in her ear.
"Are you asking because you really don't know, or just because you want to hear me say yes?" asked Elsa, archly.