"Miss Privet," he said, "I thought I would mention to you that I came to-night for a particular purpose."
It came over me with a sickening sense that old lady Andrews was right, and that it was too late to stop him. I did make a desperate effort to interpose, but he had at last got started, and would not be stayed.
"You must have noticed," he went on, as if he were repeating a lesson, "that I entertain a great respect for your character."
"Indeed, Mr. Saychase," I responded, with a laugh which was principally nerves, "you evidently mean to make me unbearably vain."
"That you could never be," he returned with an air of gallantry I should not have thought him capable of. "Your modesty is one of your greatest charms."
The girl who can hear her modesty praised and not be amused must be lacking in a sense of humor. I laughed aloud before I realized what I was doing. Then, as he looked hurt, I apologized humbly.
"It's no matter," he said graciously; "of course you wouldn't be modest if you knew how modest you are."
This sounded so ambiguous and so like comic opera that in spite of myself I laughed again.
"Come, Mr. Saychase," I begged him, "don't say any more about my modesty, please. We'll take it for granted. Have you seen Aunt Naomi this week? She has had a little return of her bad cold."
"I came over to-night," he broke out explosively, not in the least diverted by my question, "to ask you to marry me."