An Urgent Summons
Loraine, playing with a small and delectable puppy, was somewhat surprised when Bundle rejoined her after an absence of twenty minutes, in a breathless state and with an indescribable expression on her face.
“Whoof,” said Bundle, sinking on to a garden seat. “Whoof.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Loraine, looking at her curiously.
“George is the matter—George Lomax.”
“What’s he been doing?”
“Proposing to me. It was awful. He spluttered and he stuttered, but he would go through with it—he must have learnt it out of a book, I think. There was no stopping him. Oh, how I hate men who splutter! And, unfortunately, I didn’t know the reply.”
“You must have known what you wanted to do.”