She looked at his strong figure and into his earnest eyes and laughed, so adorably, that his resentment was only passing.
"I can't give you a home like this," he explained; "but you know I'll give you the best I have all my life."
"You can't help succeeding, Graydon," she said earnestly. "Everyone says that of you. I'm not afraid. I'm not thinking of that. It isn't the house I care for. It's the home. You must let me choose the day."
"I suppose it's customary," he said at last. "June is the month for brides, let me remind you."
"Before you came this evening I had decided on January next, but now I am willing to—-"
"Oh, you decided before I came, eh?" laughingly.
"Certainly," she said unblushingly. "Just as you had decided on the early spring. But, listen, dear, I am willing to say September of this year."
"One, two, three—seven months. They seem like years, Jane. You won't say June?"
"Please, please let me have some of the perquisites," she pleaded. "It hasn't seemed at all like a proposal. I've really been cheated of that, you must remember, dear. Let me say, at least, as they all do, that I'll give you an answer in three days."
"Granted. I'll admit it wasn't the sort of proposal one reads about in novels—-"