"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.
"Dear me! How stupid of me! I forgot that special use of the word. Yes?"
"The girl likes him pretty well, and her people approve of him and all that, you know."
"That simplifies the problem," said the philosopher, nodding again.
"But she's not in—in love with him, you know. She doesn't REALLY care for him—MUCH. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly. It is a most natural state of mind."
"Well, then, suppose that there's another man—what are you writing?"
"I only put down (B.)—like that," pleaded the philosopher, meekly exhibiting his notebook.
She looked at him in a sort of helpless exasperation, with just a smile somewhere in the background of it.