She was entirely in earnest, so he humoured her.
“Would ye prefer the formal ‘Will-ye-do-me-the-honour-to-become-me-bride?’ sort, or a more impassioned style?”
“Oh, Larry, you must advise me! Which would you take?”
With a laugh—half amused, wholly tender—he took her into his arms.
“I’d take the quickest way to get ye, little wee leprechaun.”
“Larry, I won’t let you off. I do so want to be proposed to.”
“My dear,” he said gently, “I love ye a very great deal. I want ye to love me a very great deal, and to be my wife.”
Both arms went around his neck. She drew his tall head down to her, and kissed him.
“Thank you, Larry; I will,” she said.