"Bibbs," she said. "I can be glad of one thing, though it's selfish.
I can be glad you came straight to me. It's more to me than even if
you'd come because you were happy." She did not speak again for a
little while; then she said: "Bibbs--dear--could you tell me about
it? Do you want to?"
Still he did not look up, but in a voice, shaken and husky he asked
her a question so grotesque that at first she thought she had
misunderstood his words.
"Mary," he said, "could you marry me?"
"What did you say, Bibbs?" she asked, quietly.
His tone and attitude did not change. "Will you marry me?"
Both of her hands leaped to her cheeks--she grew red and then white.
She rose slowly and moved backward from him, staring at him, at first
incredulously, then with an intense perplexity more and more luminous
in her wide eyes; it was like a spoken question. The room filled
with strangeness in the long silence--the two were so strange to each
other. At last she said:
"What made you say that?"
He did not answer.
"Bibbs, look at me!" Her voice was loud and clear. "What made
you say that? Look at me!"
He could not look at her, and he could not speak.
Pages:
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371