"The Grey House, Esher. Why do you want to know?"
"Oh—just curiosity."
"Perhaps you might ask him to tea?" I suggested.
"I don't ask men to tea," she said crossly, picking up a newspaper and beginning to read.
"Visitors don't usually read."
"Humph!"
"While you read I'll think," and I fell into a reverie, weaving many pleasant fancies, in which, strange to say, Nanty and the Professor were always the central figures.
By and by she looked up.
"Of what are you thinking and smiling?"
"Of—marriage and love."