Florence L Barclay

Through the Postern Gate Florence L Barclay

"How could you think the attraction would be gone?" he said. "It was always you, I wanted, not your niece. Good heavens! How can you have thought it was Mollie, when it was you-YOU, just only you, all the time?" The Aunt raised her beautiful eyebrows and looked him straight in the face. "Is this a proposal?" she asked, quietly. "Of course it is," said the Boy; "and jolly hard it has been, having to wait two whole weeks to make it. I want you to marry me, Christobel. I dare say you think me a cheeky young beggar to suggest it, point blank. But I want you to give me seven days; and, in those seven days, I am going to win you. Then it will seem to you, as it does to me, the only possible thing to do.