“It would be your duty,” said Elma, primly. She twirled the handle of the sunshade round and round, and strove womanfully to keep her thoughts fixed on the subject on hand, and away from that thrilling “when I marry.” “But it isn’t only form, you know,” she added anxiously! “It’s caring for it most of all, and putting it before everything else!”
Geoffrey gazed at her in a rapture of admiration. He loved her simplicity; he adored her earnestness. In his eyes she was a shining white angel sent down from heaven to be his guide through life. It needed all his self-control to keep back the words which were struggling for utterance, but the fear of frightening Elma by a premature declaration gave him strength to resist.
They turned instead into a prayer, a sincere yet bargain-making prayer, like that of Jacob of old.
“Give me this woman!” cried the inner voice: “this one woman out of all the world, and I will vow in return my faith, my allegiance!” The most earnest vows are often offered in the least conventional language, and Geoffrey Greville was not a man to promise without intending to perform. There was a long, pregnant silence. Elma felt the presence of electricity in the air, and forced herself to return to the attack.
“And there are other things! ... You play bridge—”
“Certainly I do!”
“For money?”
“Shilling points.”
“What are ‘points’?”
Geoffrey laughed happily. This innocence sounded fascinating in his infatuated ears.