Mrs. March gave a little start, and looked at her husband, but he said nothing, and Kenby seemed not to have supposed that he would say anything.
“I know it would be very American, and all that, but I happen to be an American, and it wouldn't be out of character for me. I suppose,” he appealed to Mrs. March, “that it's something I might offer to do if it were from New York to Florida—and I happened to be going there? And I did happen to be going to Holland.”
“Why, of course, Mr. Kenby,” she responded, with such solemnity that March gave way in an outrageous laugh.
Kenby laughed, and Mrs. March laughed too, but with an inner note of protest.
“Well,” Kenby continued, still addressing her, “what I want you to do is to stand by me when I propose it.”
Mrs. March gathered strength to say, “No, Mr. Kenby, it's your own affair, and you must take the responsibility.”
“Do you disapprove?”
“It isn't the same as it would be at home. You see that yourself.”