"Will you marry me, Pat?"
She jumped to her feet, walked over to the window, and looked out to where the clematis blooms trembled in the wind.
"Oh, I suppose so," she said fretfully. "If you want to take the chance."
"What chance, dear love?"
"The chance every man takes that marries a girl of the kind you men all seem to want to marry. How many of the married set here d'you suppose are true to their husbands?"
"I don't like you cynical, Pat. You've been letting something poison your mind."
"Not me. I see things as they are; that's all. Ask Con. Ask Dee. Ask Bobs. Ask any of 'em. You know you could have had Con if you'd really wanted her. And then I butted in." Her chuckle was full of diablerie. It still persisted in her tone as she continued: "Cary, what would you do to me if I went straying off the reservation after we were married?"
"Nothing."
"Oh, don't be so calm and superior and noble about it," she fretted. "You'd tempt an angel to try a flutter just to see whether she would get by with it."