"That
I--that you--what you said just now about 'belonging'!" She brought it out
with a rush.
"I meant it."
They were alone in the room. The others, conducted by Robin, had all
trooped out to inspect what Lady Susan gaily insisted upon referring to as
the "Cottage Poultry Farm," and distantly through the open window came the
fluttered cackling of the White Leghorns and Rhode Island Reds, resentful
of this unaccountable intrusion of strangers into their domain.
Brett laid his hand suddenly on Ann's arm and thrust his face near hers.
"I meant it," he repeated, and his voice roughened oddly. "I've meant it
ever since the day I found you fast asleep in the hammock."
She drew back a little. The nearness of his arrogant, suddenly passionate
face to hers filled her with a sense of panic. His eyes were like blue
fire, scorching her.
"Don't! Don't be absurd, Brett," she said hastily. "Why--why"--seeking for
some good reason to set against his abruptly declared determination--"you
hardly know me! Only just on the surface, that is."
"I know all I need to, thank you. I know you're the woman I want to marry.
No"--checking with a gesture the impulsive negative with which she was
about to respond--"you needn't bother about refusing me.
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