"
"I shall not speak of it; indeed, I shall probably not remember
it," said the philosopher.
"And you mustn't look at me, please, while I'm asking you."
"I don't think I was looking at you, but if I was I beg your
pardon," said the philosopher apologetically.
She pulled the tuft of grass right out of the ground and flung it
from her with all her force.
"Suppose a man----" she began. "No, that's not right."
"You can take any hypothesis you please," observed the
philosopher, "but you must verify it afterward, of course."
"Oh, do let me go on. Suppose a girl, Mr. Jerningham--I wish you
wouldn't nod."
"It was only to show that I followed you."
"Oh, of course you `follow me,' as you call it. Suppose a girl
had two lovers--you're nodding again--or, I ought to say, suppose
there were two men who might be in love with a girl."
"Only two?" asked the philosopher. "You see, any number of men
MIGHT be in love with----"
"Oh, we can leave the rest out," said Miss May, with a sudden
dimple; "they don't matter."
"Very well," said the philosopher. "If they are irrelevant, we
will put them aside."
"Suppose, then, that one of these men was--oh, AWFULLY in love
with the girl--and--and proposed, you know----"
"A moment!" said the philosopher, opening a notebook. "Let me
take down his proposition. What was it?"
"Why, proposed to her--asked her to marry him," said the girl,
with a stare.
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