'Mary, you said sister!' A soft flush in her face, and eager love in her eyes.
'Because I meant it, I suppose, dearie; I can give no other reason,' I said, trying still to keep the jesting tone. 'If you do not object to an elderly sister?'
'Not if elder sisters do not put themselves out of reach of the sympathy of the younger.'
'Put themselves,' I repeated musingly. 'May not circumstances do that for them?'
'When will you tell me—dear Mary, when will you let me feel that you really are like a sister to me?'
At which I morbidly shrank back into my shell again. 'When my love-story is finished you shall hear it.'
'Finished! As though a love-story ever could be finished—as though you or I would care to have one, if it could! But you have not told me even the beginning.'
'You have found out that for yourself, darling.'
'And am I right in thinking—I hope I am not; but—— Dear Mary, am I to say exactly what I think?'
'Exactly.'