"I could use a barbecue, I guess. Beef."
The car veered to the graveled area before a brightly lit stand. Nick gave the order to an attendant. He chuckled as Pat, with the digestive disregard of youth attacked the greasy combination.
"That's like a humming bird eating hay!" he said. "Or better, like a leprechaun eating that horse-meat they can for dogs."
"You might as well discover that I don't live on honey and rose-petals," said Pat. "Not even on caviar and terrapin—at least, not exclusively. I leave the dainty palate for Mother to indulge."
"Which is just as well. Hamburger and barbecue are more easily budgeted."
"Nicholas," said the girl, tossing the paper napkin out of the car window, "is that an indirect and very evasive proposal of marriage?"
"You know it could be, if you wished it!"
"And do I?" she said, assuming a pensive air. "I wonder. Suppose we say I'll let you know later."
"And meanwhile?"
"Oh, meanwhile we can be sort of engaged. Just the way we've been."