“Of course there’s nothing very much at present, but there will be, I expect, before it’s over; divorce suits are beastly, you know. I wanted to tell you, because⁠—because⁠—you ought to know⁠—if⁠—” and he began to stammer, gazing at her troubled eyes, “if⁠—if you’re going to be a darling and love me, Holly. I love you⁠—ever so; and I want to be engaged.” He had done it in a manner so inadequate that he could have punched his own head; and dropping on his knees, he tried to get nearer to that soft, troubled face. “You do love me⁠—don’t you? If you don’t I.⁠ ⁠…” There was a moment of silence and suspense, so awful that he could hear the sound of a mowing-machine far out on the lawn pretending there was grass to cut. Then she swayed forward; her free hand touched his hair, and he gasped: “Oh, Holly!”

Her answer was very soft: “Oh, Val!”