"Have you seen your back tire?"
"My tire? No! Is it down?"
Out she ran—as he had guessed she would; but it was at any cost to get away from him, not for the car's sake—and that he did not guess. He followed her. Dorothea, pretending to examine her tires, looked up and knew herself caught.
"Why, they're all right," she said, rising from the last of the wheels. "Did you think I had a puncture?"
"No, and I never said I did. I wanted to speak to you," said Denis coolly.
She faced him across the car, as cool as he. "Better not."
"I want to ask you something. I want to know if you will do me the very great honor of becoming my wife."
How quietly he said it, looking at her with his steady eyes! Dorothea shook her head. "Never."
"Ah, but I'm not askin' for an answer at once."