"I am very happy, Mr. Dillwyn," she said.
Everybody knows how words fail upon occasion; and on this occasion the silence lasted some considerable time. And then Philip put Lois into one of the big easy-chairs, and went down on one knee at her feet, holding her hand. Lois tried to collect her spirits to make remonstrance.
"O, Mr. Dillwyn, do not stay there!" she begged.
"Why not? It becomes me."
"I do not think it becomes you at all," said Lois, laughing a little nervously,—"and I am sure it does not become me."
"Mistaken on both points! It becomes me well, and I think it does not become you ill," said he, kissing the hand he held. And then, bending forward to carry his kiss from the hand to the cheek,—"O my darling, how long I have waited for this!"
"Long?" said Lois, in surprise. How pretty the incredulity was on her innocent face.
"Very long!—while you thought I was liking somebody else. There has never been any change in me, Lois. I have been patiently and impatiently waiting for you this great while. You will not think it unreasonable, if that fact makes me intolerant of any more waiting, will you?"
"Don't keep that position!" said Lois earnestly.
"It is the position I mean to keep all the rest of my life!"