"Unless I'm greatly misled as to the meaning of the light that has suddenly come into Danny's eyes, he's proposing to her now!" "Oh!" gasped Belle, and the small spoonful of cream that was passing down her throat threatened to strangle her.
"Dave, how old do you think Miss Henshaw is ?" asked Miss Meade, as soon as she could trust herself to speak.
"Twenty, I suppose." "You don't know much about women's ages, then, do you ?" smiled Belle.
"I don't suppose I've any business to know." "Miss Henshaw is a good many years older than Dan." "She doesn't look it," urged Dave.
"But she is.

Trust another woman to know!" "There, by Jove!" whispered Dave.

"It has started.

Danny is running under the wire! I can tell by his face that he has just started to propose." "Poor boy! He'll have an awful fall!" muttered Belle.
"Why do you say that?
But, say! You're right, Belle.

Dan's face has turned positively ghastly.