"My dear, my dear, I love you too much to marry you."
"Why, then," she said, simply, "you love me, it seems to me, enough to marry me. Don't you see?"
He looked at her with hungry eyes. "I think I am man enough to save you from myself," he said; "but don't—don't tempt me too far!"...
CHAPTER XXVII
That was in September. It was the first of December when Howard Maitland came leaping up-stairs, two steps at a time, and burst into the nursery, so chock-full of news that he could hardly wait to see the way Betty's toes would grip your finger if you put it on the sole of her pink foot.
"Who do you suppose is engaged?"
"Jack McKnight," Laura said; "Howard, kiss her little neck, right under her ear."
He kissed it, and said, "No! Not McKnight. You wouldn't guess in a hundred years!"