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Posco felt the blood rush to his face, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to her in utter amazement. When she saw the expression on his face she paled, and stared desperately up at him, as if waiting for some proclaimation of doom to fall upon her. Quickly her took both her hands in his to reassure her, and he vainly sought for words to say in his mind. She loved him! It was too beautiful, too joyous to be true! She would be willing to be his wife, she wanted to be his wife. His eyes flamed with love as he gazed down on her, and he thought how easy it would be to bend towards her and touch her lips... but, no! It wasn't proper. He had known her only a day, and even if he loved her in that short a time, it wasn't custom to become engaged to a girl in that short a time, or even tell her that you loved her. He wanted to tell her, but he could not. She'd be made a laughing-stock in front of all her friends, and an object of scorn among others, and he couldn't have that. And as for himself, well! His mother had always raised him by the strictest code of honour. 'Never, Posco dear,' she had said, 'marry a lass, no matter how much you love her and she loves you, unless you've known her a good amount of time already. A sufficient amount of time, dearie, to know that you really do love her and that you will all your life. You don't want to be sorry later. And it will bring shame to you and to her, Posco dear, if you marry the girl after knowing her only a little while, because it isn't natural.'
The thoughts sped through Posco's head as Lily looked expectantly up at him, waiting for his reply. He saw that she was waiting, and he did not know how to reply in a seemly fashion. She waited, and waited some more, and at last, seeing nothing else to say, he stammered out in a confused manner, blushing in his shyness, 'Do you? Well, that's very nice, Lily.'
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