tisfactory to Billy was evident,
for she began laughingly to talk again. What she said, William scarcely
knew, though he was conscious of making an occasional vague reply. He
was still floundering in a hopeless sea of confusion and dismay. His own
desire was to get up and say good night at once. He wanted to be alone
to think. He realized, however, with sickening force, that men do not
propose and run away--if they are accepted. And he was accepted; he
realized that, too, overwhelmingly. Then he tried to think how it had
happened, what he had said; how she could so have misunderstood his
meaning. This line of thought he abandoned quickly, however; it could do
no good. But what could do good, he asked himself. What could he do?

With blinding force came the answer: he could do nothing. Billy cared
for him. Billy had said "yes." Billy expected to be his wife. As if he
could say to her now: "I beg your pardon, but 'twas all a mistake. _I_
did not ask you to marry me."

Very valiantly then William summoned his wits and tried to act his part.
He told himself, too, that it would not be a hard one; that he loved
Billy dearly, and that he would try to make her happy. He winced a
little at this thought, for he remembered suddenly how old he was--as if
he, at his age, were a fit match for a girl of twenty-one!

And then he looked at Billy. The girl was plainly nervous. There was a
deep flush on her cheeks and a brilliant sparkle in her eyes. She
was talking rapidly--almost incoherently at times--and her voice was
tremulous. Frequent little embarrassed laughs punctuated her sentences,
and her fingers toyed with everything that came within reach. Some time
before she had sprung to her feet and had turned on the electric lights;
and when she came back she had not taken her old position at William's
side, but had seated herself in a chair near by. All of which, according
to William's eyes, meant the maidenly shyness of a girl who has just
said "yes" to the man she loves.

William went home that night in a daze. To himself he said that he had
gone out in search of a daughter, and had come back with a wife.

CHAPTER XXXVII

"WILLIAM'S BROTHER"

It was decided that for the present, the engagement should not be
known outside the family. The wedding would not take place immediately,
William said, and it was just as well to keep the matter to themselves
until plans were a little more definite.

The members of the family were