Yes, he would ask her on the way home again.
This resolution lasted until he found that the thought of what was to come was spoiling his game. So on the ninth green he suddenly stopped waggling his putter at the ball, and said: "I want you to marry me, Marion."
"Do you, Robert?" She picked her own putter out of her bag, and dropped the bag at the edge of the green.
"You will, won't you?"
"No, Robert dear, I won't."
"But Marion! Why? Why not, I mean."
"Oh-as the children say, 'because'."
"Because why?"
"Half a dozen reasons, any one of them good by themselves. For one, if a man is not married by the time he is forty, then marriage is not one of the things he wants out of life. Just something that has overtaken him; like flu and rheumatism and income-tax demands. I don't want to be just something that has overtaken you."
"But that is—"