Then there came a quiet night when Carol and Mr. Duke sat in the living-room, idly discussing the weather, and looking at Connie who was deeply immersed in a book on the other side of the big reading lamp. Conversation between them lagged so noticeably that they sighed with relief when she finally laid down her book, and twisted around in her chair until she had them both in full view. "Books are funny," she began brightly. "I don't believe half the written stuff ever did happen--I don't believe it could. Do girls ever propose, Mr. Duke?" "No one ever proposed to me," he answered, laughing. "No?" she queried politely. "Maybe no one wanted you badly enough. But I wonder if they ever do? Writers say so. I can't believe it somehow. It seems so--well--unnecessary, someway. Carol and I were talking about it this afternoon." Carol looked up startled. "What does Carol think about it?" he queried. "Well, she said she thought in ordinary cases girls were clever enough to get what they wanted without asking for it." Carol moved restlessly in her chair, her face drooping a little, and Mr. Duke laughed. "Of course, I know none of our girls would do such a thing," said Connie, serene in her family pride. "But Carol says she must admit she'd like to find some way to make a man say what anybody could see with half an eye he wanted to say anyhow, only--" Connie stopped abruptly. Mr. Duke had turned to Carol, his keen eyes searching her face, but Carol sank in the big chair and turned her face away from him against the leather cushion. "Connie," she said, "of course no girl would propose, no girl would want to--I was only joking--" Mr. Duke laughed openly then. "Let's go and take a walk, shan't we, Carol? It's a grand night." "You needn't go to get rid of me," said Connie, rising. "I was just going anyhow." "Oh, don't go," said Mr. Duke politely. "Don't go," echoed Carol pleadingly. Connie stepped to the doorway, then paused and looked back at them. Sudden illumination came to her as she scanned their faces, the man's clear-cut, determined, eager--Carol's shy, and scared, and--hopeful. She turned quickly back toward her sister, pain darkening her eyes. Carol was the last of all the girls,--it would leave her alone,--and he was too old for her. Her lips quivered a little, and her face shadowed more darkly. But they did not see it. The man's eyes were intent on Carol's lovely features, and Carol was studying her slender fingers. Connie drew a long breath, and looked down upon her sister with a great protecting tenderness in her heart. She wanted to catch her up in her strong young arms and carry her wildly out of the room--away from the man who sat there--waiting for her. Carol lifted her face at that moment, and turned slowly toward Mr. Duke. Connie saw her eyes. They were luminous.