This made many of them look rather queer, as no doubt it might.
"And months ago I said—I said—"
"Go ahead, Pen," whispered Bob. "You mean you said you'd marry one of 'em."
"I said I'd—marry one of you."
Titania groaned in the corner of a vast settee. Bradstock and Brading whistled, or it seemed so. But the other poor wretches stared at Penelope, and saw no one, heard no one, but her.
"And I wanted you to come to-night so that I could ask you all to go on in the path of rectitude and simplicity and courage, balloons and hard work and healthiness and thought for others, even if I was married," said Pen, with a gasp. "Will you, oh, will you?"
"We will," said the crowd, Goby leading with a deep bass voice and tears in his eyes.
"Oh, I'm so glad," said Penelope, "for I shall not have lived in vain even if I died to-night. And now—and now—I have to tell you something."
"Great heavens," said Titania, in an awestricken and penetrating whisper, "what is she going to say now?"
"I have kept my word," said Penelope, with her eyes on the floor. "I have kept my word!"