“I expect you think I'm silly,” she said, wiping her eyes, as they rose to go home, “but I don't want you to go away.”
“I don't want to go, dearest. If you're going to cry, you'll have me a raving maniac. I can't stand it, now.”
“I'm not going to,” she answered, smiling through her tears, “but it's a blessed privilege to have a nice stiff collar and a new tie to cry on.”
“They're at your service, dear, for anything but that. I suppose we're engaged now, aren't we?”
“I don't know,” said Ruth, in a low tone; “you haven't asked me to marry you.”
“Do you want me to?”
“It's time, isn't it?”
Winfield bent over and whispered to her.
“I must think about it,” said Ruth, very gravely, “it's so sudden.”
“Oh, you sweet girl,” he laughed, “aren't you going to give me any encouragement?”