Then she reproached herself for not understanding that his frank curiosity was a delicate appeal to her confidence in him, and answered: "He proposed to me." Conolly immediately dropped the subject, and went in search of a vacant seat.

They found one in the little room where the architects' drawings languish.

They were silent for some time.
Then he began, seriously: "Is it too soon to call you by your own name?
'Miss Lind' is distant; but 'Marian' might shock you if it came too confidently without preparation." "Whichever you please." "Whichever I please!" "That is the worst of being a woman.

Little speeches that are sheer coquetry when you analyze them, come to our lips and escape even when we are most anxious to be straightforward." "In the same way," said Conolly, "the most enlightened men often express themselves in a purely conventional manner on subjects on which they have the deepest convictions." This sententious utterance had the effect of extinguishing the conversation for some moments, Marian being unable to think of a worthy rejoinder.

At last she said: "What is your name ?" "Edward, or, familiarly, Ned.