“I will tell you,” she smiled, “what you have come to do, Hugo. You have come to take me out to lunch.”
“I do wish,” said Hugo, “that you would get out of that nasty habit of calling ‘luncheon’ lunch. Lunch sounds like a glass of milk and a digestive biscuit.”
“Dear Hugo!”
“Look here, Shirley, don’t ever say that again!”
Shirley was very near, and her white hands were somehow like white flowers. But at her face he did not look.
“Dea——”
“Don’t!” he roared.
Now Shirley was twenty and tall and straight and fair, and when she laughed you saw why servants were polite to her on sight. And oh, she was such a pretty girl!
“Hugo,” she said, “you are going to propose to me again.”
“Oh, am I?”