Z-z-p, a button jumped off. “Oh, dash the thing!” said Bernard, disgusted.
“I’ll do it,” said Dolly, taking his wrist. “What a pity it is your hands are so large. Mine are at least small, though I’ve spoiled the skin with hard work. What did you talk about in the train yesterday?”
“That temperance rot, most of the time.”
“You do waste your chances, Bernard.”
“Well, she seemed to like it.”
“Why didn’t you ask her to marry you? You mean to, don’t you?”
“All in good time; I’m in no such mighty hurry.”
“I know I wouldn’t take you,” said Dolly, viciously linking the final button.
“I guess I shouldn’t be such a fool as to ask you,” responded her brother. “As it happens, I mean to get an answer out of her to-night.”
Dolly was silent. His name was the first word that rose to her lips: his Christian name, the usual preface of an appeal.