"Yes," Ozzie replied, opening his eyes with that mien of surprise that was his response to all questions, even the simplest. "Miss Sissie has cracked it."
"I'm very sorry my daughter should be so clumsy."
"It was not exactly clumsiness. I offered her the eye-glass to do what she pleased with, and she pleased to break it."
"Surely an impertinence?"
"No. A favour. Miss Sissie did not care for my eye-glass."
"You must be considerably incommoded."
"No. The purpose of my eye-glass was decorative, not optical." Ozzie smiled agreeably, though nervously.
Mr. Prohack was conscious of a certain surprising sympathy for this chubby simpering young man with the peculiar vocation, whom but lately he had scorned and whom on one occasion he had described as a perfect ass.
"Well, shall we sit down?" suggested the elder, whom the younger's nervousness had put into an excellent state of easy confidence.
"The fact is," said Ozzie, obeying, "the fact is that I've come to see you about Sissie. I'm very anxious to marry her, Mr. Prohack."