"And you'd eliminate all the uncertainty," added the bachelor.

"And the chance of having to beg for your carfare and pin money."

"And of having to go bankrupt for matinee tickets and Easter hats."

"And of being asked what you did with your allowance."

"Or of how you acquired your breath or lost your watch."

"The trouble is," sighed the widow, "that no man would ever be broad enough or generous enough to make such a proposition."

"And no woman would ever be sensible enough to listen to it."

"Nonsense. Any woman would. It's just the sort of thing we've been longing for."[71]

[71]

"Well," said the bachelor, turning on his back and looking up at the widow speculatively, "let me see—you could have the violet room."

"What!" exclaimed the widow.

"It's got a good south view," protested the bachelor, "and besides it's not over the kitchen."

"What on earth do you mean?" The widow sat up straight and her bangles jingled warningly.

"And you could have Saturday and Wednesday evenings out. Those are my club nights."

"How dare you!"

"And any salary you might ask—"

"What are you talking about, Billy Travers?"

"YOU'VE taken all the poetry out of it."

"I'm making you a proposal of marriage," explained the bachelor in[72] an injured tone. "Don't you recognize it?"

[72]

 Prev. P 26/65 next