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It was an adorable look.
"Lucy!" he said huskily.
But she turned quickly from him, and ran to the other end of the room.
He followed awkwardly, stammering:
"Lucy, I want--I want to ask you. Will you--will you--will you be
engaged to me?"
She stood at a window, seeming to look out into the summer darkness,
her back to him.
"Will you, Lucy?"
"No," she murmured, just audibly.
"Why not?"
"I'm older than you."
"Eight months!"
"You're too young."
"Is that--" he said, gulping--"is that the only reason you won't?"
She did not answer.
As she stood, persistently staring out of the window, with her back to
him, she did not see how humble his attitude had become; but his voice
was low, and it shook so that she could have no doubt of his emotion.
"Lucy, please forgive me for making such a row," he said, thus gently.
"I've been--I've been terribly upset--terribly! You know how I feel
about you, and always have felt about you. I've shown it in every
single thing I've done since the first time I met you, and I know you
know it.


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