“Yes; but not so’s you’d notice.”
“It wouldn’t be very original of me, then, to say I loved you?”
“It would be if you didn’t.”
He scarcely knew how to take that, but he tried:
“D’you want me to be original?”
“If you can’t be natural,” she said.
“If I were natural,” said Ronald, with a deep breath, “I should ask you to marry me—when I’ve got on and have a good position. Will you?”
“Well, come, Ronnie,” said Mornice, who was used to protestations of love but a stranger to proposals of marriage; “it’s a sporting offer, isn’t it?”
“Do you take it, then?”
She bit her pretty little mouth into all manner of tantalising and absurd shapes.