"Fair?—but I'm a brunette," she corrected. "It's Genevieve you're thinking of. Confess now, it is, isn't it?"
"No, indeed, no!" he protested. "I prefer brunettes—always have! You're a perfect brunette, Dodiekins. I've always liked you more than Genevieve. You're the perfect brunette type, and you have all that verve—you're so spirituelle. Just say 'yes' now, and let's have it over with. To-morrow I'll buy you the biggest solitaire in town."
"Oh, Laffie!—the biggest? You're too kind! I couldn't think of it!" she mocked.
"But I mean it, Dodie, every word, indeed I do!" he insisted, ardently thrusting out an arm to embrace her.
She slipped clear, and sprang up, to stand just beyond his reach.
"So great an honor!" she murmured. "How can I deprive all the other girls of the greatest catch in town?"
"They've tried hard enough to catch me," he replied. "But I'd rather have you than all the blondes put together. I mean it, every word. I don't mind at all that you're not so rich as Genevieve. I'll have enough for two, as soon as the old man shuffles off this mortal coil. You'll bring him dead to rights on the will question. He likes you almost as well as he likes Genevieve. You're second choice with him."
"Second!—not the third?—nor the fourth? You're sure?"
"No, second; and you can count on it, he'll do the handsome thing by Mrs. Lafayette, even if he keeps me on an allowance. So now, say the word, and come and cuddle up."
"Oh, Laffie!—in here? We might disturb Mr. Blake."