"Sheila," Ingram said, "what would you think of my getting married?"
Sheila looked up with a bright smile and said, "It would please me very much—it would be a great pleasure to me; and I have expected it for some time."
"You have expected it?" he repeated with a stare.
"Yes," she said quietly.
"Then you fancy you know—" he said, or rather stammered, in great embarrassment, when she interrupted him by saying,
"Oh yes, I think I know. When you came down every evening to tell me all the praises of Mrs. Lorraine, and how clever she was, and kind, I expected you would come some day with another message; and now I am very glad to hear it. You have changed all my opinions about her, and—"
Then she rose and took both his hands, and looked frankly into his face.
"—And I do hope most sincerely you will be happy, my dear friend."
Ingram was fairly taken aback at the consequences of his own imprudence. He had never dreamed for a moment that any one would have suspected such a thing; and he had thrown out the suggestion to Sheila almost as a jest, believing, of course, that it compromised no one. And here, before he had spoken a word to Mrs. Lorraine on the subject, he was being congratulated on his approaching marriage.
"Oh, Sheila," he said, "this is all a mistake. It was a joke of mine. If I had known you would think of Mrs. Lorraine, I should not have said a word about it."