"I do now, you scatter-brain! I adore you, Scott; but, you know, love is a different game."
"That'll come all right," he protested. "When you're the missus, and you see me come a cropper over five bars, you'll suddenly wake up to find you love hubby. And I won't be hurt, but you'll think I am, and you'll pull up and scramble down and look me over, and cover my pale and beautiful face with kisses and—I'll play foxy and let you," he ended with pleased satisfaction.
The smile on her face had suddenly become fixed: for what he was saying had conjured up a vision of the polo field, and a young fellow in white picking himself up from the trampled sod.
Wallace, looking around to see that the hall was empty, sprang up the two steps and took her hand in his.
"Diana, I do love you dearly," he said. "Will you take me on for a trial gallop?"
"Do you mean an engagement?" she said, looking him over.
"Yes, I do; will you?"
"What kind of an engagement?"
"The regular—with a sparkler on the side. Will you, Di?"
"No, you very slangy young man, I won't."