“You see,” said Parker, with an admiring glance at her eyes, in spite of
the fact that the coolness of her reception rather abashed him—“you see,
I have not delayed very long in coming.”
“So I perceive,” returned Marguerite, with a bored manner. “That’s what
I said to Mrs. Willard as I came down. You don’t allow your friends much
leeway, Mr. Parker. It doesn’t seem more than five minutes since we were
together at the card party.”
(“That’s cordial, eh?” said Harley, as I read. “Nice sort of talk for a
heroine to a hero. Makes it easy for me, eh?”
“I must say if you manage to get a proposal in now you’re a genius,” said
I.
“Oh—as for that, I got reckless when I saw how things were going,”
returned Harley. “I lost my temper, and took it out of poor Parker. He
proposes, as you will see when you come to it; but it isn’t realism—it’s
compulsion. I simply forced him into it—poor devil. But go on and read
for yourself.”