Why disturb that poor old skeleton?"
He did not answer, but he continued to watch her steadily with eyes
that held an expression of dumb faithfulness--like the eyes of a dog.
Daisy was softly and meditatively poking the fire. "If you marry her,
Blake," she said, "you will have to be enormously good to her. She
isn't the sort of girl to be satisfied with anything but the best."
"I should do my utmost to make her happy," he answered.
She glanced up momentarily. "I wonder if you would succeed," she
murmured.
For a single instant their eyes met. Daisy's fell away at once, and
the firelight showed a swift deepening of colour on her face.
As for Blake, he stood quite stiff for a few seconds, then with an
abruptness of movement unusual with him, he knelt suddenly down beside
her.
"Daisy," he said, and his voice sounded strained, almost hoarse,
"you're not vexed about it? You don't mind my marrying? It isn't--you
know--it isn't--as if--"
He broke off, for Daisy had jerked upright as if at the piercing of a
nerve. She looked at him fully, with blazing eyes. "How can you be so
ridiculous, Blake?" she exclaimed, with sharp impatience. "That was
all over and done with long, long ago, and you know it. Besides, even
if it hadn't been, I'm not a dog in the manger. Surely you know that
too.
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