"And love me--a little?"
"No; not a little."
Then he caught me in his arms, though at any moment someone might have
passed the summer-house door and seen us. He didn't think of that,
apparently, and neither did I at the time. I thought only of
Brown--Brown--Brown. There was nobody in the world but Brown.
I don't think I precisely said in so many words that I would be engaged
to him, though he may have taken that for granted in the end; and if I
did give a wrong impression, I had no time to correct it, for it seemed
that we had been talking about the future and such things no more than a
minute, when Dad came sauntering by with Lady Brighthelmston.
They both looked at us as if they expected to hear something "extra
special," as the newsboys say; and I gave a glance at Brown, or Jack, or
whatever I ought to call him, which said, "If you dare!"
Having been forgiven once, I suppose he thought it would be wiser not to
tempt Providence, so he held his peace, and we all talked about the
weather and what a nice garden-party it was.
That is the reason why I still have the thing in my own hands. If I read
this over, as I am now going to do, and disapprove of myself, it is not
too late to change my mind.
P.S. I have read it. And I have thought things over.
Molly Randolph, if you hadn't forgiven Brown, you would have been a
detestable little wretch, and you would never have forgiven _yourself_,
for he is the best ever--except Dad.
It will be delicious to let myself love him as much as ever I like, at
last--my Lightning Conductor!