Betty looked at the hand which had approached[130] so near, and a sudden trepidation thrilled her. She opened and closed her fan nervously, but made no attempt to finish her broken sentence. [130] “Betty,” her lover said, leaning forward, “now I am in the dust at your feet, you must at least let me speak. You’ve kept out of my way so for the last two or three weeks that I was afraid you disliked me; but now I understand where you have been. You know how much I care for you.” Still she did not raise her eyes. “Don’t you care for me?” he pleaded. “I’ve been in love with you all summer. You must have known it.” He paused again, yet she did not answer, though a great tide of joy thrilled her whole being. Her lover seized both her hands and bent down until his cheek almost touched hers. “Will you marry me, Betty?” All her wilfulness and sauciness flashed in her eyes as she lifted her glance at last to his and answered. “I wouldn’t if I hadn’t beaten this afternoon.” With which implied consent he seemed perfectly satisfied. [131] [131] Interlude Third. MRS. FRUFFLES IS AT HOME. Interlude Third. [132][133] [132][133] MRS. FRUFFLES IS AT HOME. In answer to the announcement that Mrs. Stephen Morgan Fruffles will, on the afternoon of January 27, be at home from four to seven, all the world—with the exception of her husband, who keeps significantly out of the house, and at his club finds such solace as is possible under the circumstances—has assembled to celebrate that rare and exciting event. In
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