"I am. It's a kind of thing I know that men laugh about, but I don't mind telling you that I am downright in love with her. The governor approves of it."
"She has got money, probably?"
"Not a shilling;—not as much as would buy a pair of gloves. But I don't love her a bit the less for that. As to income, the governor will stump up like a brick. Now I want you to write the letter."
"It's a kind of thing a third person can't do," said the Colonel, when he had considered the request for a moment.
"Why not? Yes, you can."
"Do it yourself, and say just the simplest words as they come up. They are sure to go further with any girl than what another man may write. It is impossible that another man should be natural on such a task as that."
"Natural! I don't know about natural," said Tom, who was anxious now to explain the character of the lady in question. "I don't know that a letter that was particularly natural would please her. A touch of poetry and romance would go further than anything natural."
"Who is the lady?" asked the Colonel, who certainly was by this time entitled to be so far inquisitive.
"She is my cousin,—Ayala Dormer."
"Who?"