Estelle turned crimson.

"I'm not very successful," Arthur went on soberly. "I'm afraid I
wouldn't make a very good husband, I'm rather worthless and lazy!"

"You aren't," broke in Estelle; "you're--you're--"

Arthur reached over and took her by the shoulders.

"What?" he demanded.

She would not look at him, but she did not draw away. He held her
from him for a moment.

"What am I?" he demanded again. Somehow he found himself kissing
the tips of her ears. Her face was buried against his shoulder.

"What am I?" he repeated sternly.

Her voice was muffled by his coat.

"You're--you're dear!" she said.

There was an interlude of about a minute and a half, then she pushed
him away from her.

"Don't!" she said breathlessly. "Please don't!"

"Aren't you going to marry me?" he demanded.