“John,” she called.
He left the door and flung himself beside her chair.
“I love you,” she said; “I love, love you.”
It was the same old story, the telling of which has never made it grow out of fashion. He caught her up and kissed her again and again.
“Won’t Andrews be glad that I am at last to settle down and marry the most beautiful woman on earth?” he asked playfully.
“I think not,” she answered.
“You think not? Why?”
“Because yesterday he asked me to marry him.”
“What did you tell him?”
“To call this afternoon.”