"
"Perhaps my arm around your waist--"
"Perhaps."
"So?"
"Yes."
And, after a silence:
"Has love stirred?"
"Love sleeps the sounder."
"And if I touched your lips?"
"Best not."
"Why?"
"I'm sure that love would yawn."
Chilled, for unconsciously I had begun to find in this child-play an
interest unexpected, I dropped her unresisting fingers.
"Upon my word," I said, almost irritably, "I can believe you when you
say you never mean to wed."
"But I don't say it," she protested.
"What? You have a mind to wed?"
"Nor did I say that, either," she said, laughing.
"Then what the deuce do you say?"
"Nothing, unless I'm entreated politely."
"I entreat you, cousin, most politely," I said.
"Then I may tell you that, though I trouble my head nothing as to
wedlock, I am betrothed."
"Betrothed!" I repeated, angrily disappointed, yet I could not think
why.
"Yes--pledged."
"To whom?"
"To a man, silly."
"A man!"
"With two legs, two arms, and a head, cousin."
"You ... love him?"
"No," she said, serenely. "It's only to wed and settle down some day."
"You don't love him?"
"No," she repeated, a trifle impatiently.
"And you mean to wed him?"
"Listen to the boy!" she exclaimed. "I've told him ten times that I am
betrothed, which means a wedding.
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