Tuppence raised her face to his. The taxi proceeded on its course round the north side of Regent’s Park.
“You haven’t really proposed now,” pointed out Tuppence. “Not what our grandmothers would call a proposal. But after listening to a rotten one like Julius’s, I’m inclined to let you off.”
“You won’t be able to get out of marrying me, so don’t you think it.”
“What fun it will be,” responded Tuppence. “Marriage is called all sorts of things, a haven, and a refuge, and a crowning glory, and a state of bondage, and lots more. But do you know what I think it is?”
“What?”
“A sport!”
“And a damned good sport too,” said Tommy.