Sylvia said: “He is indeed.”
“It would be a sensible match, if she cared to risk it, and if he would only ask her. But he won't.”
“Perhaps,” ventured Sylvia, “she'll ask him. She strikes me as that sort. I do not mean it unkindly—only Marion is so tailor-made and cigaretteful—”
Mrs. Ferrall looked up at her.
“Did he propose to you?”
“Yes—I think so.”
“Then it's the first time for him. He finds women only too willing to play with him as a rule, and he doesn't have to be definite. I wonder what he meant by being so definite with you?”
“I suppose he meant marriage,” said Sylvia serenely; yet there was the slightest ring in her voice; and it amused Mrs. Ferrall to try her a little further.
“Oh, you think he really intended to commit himself?”
“Why not?” retorted Sylvia, turning red. “Do you think he found me over-willing, as you say he finds others?”