He gave a kind of hopeless gesture. "I've put it all wrong," said he. "I always say things wrong. But—I—I believe I do things better." And he gave me a look that I liked. It was such a quaint mingling of such a nice man with such a nice boy.
"I understand perfectly," said I, and I can't tell how much I hated to hurt him—he did so remind me of dear old "ma" Burke. "But—please don't discuss it. I couldn't consider the matter—possibly."
"You won't leave!" he exclaimed. "I assure you I'll not annoy you. You must admit, Miss Talltowers, that I haven't tried to thrust myself on you in the past. And—really, mother and father couldn't get on at all without you."
"Certainly, I shan't leave—why should I?" said I. "I'm very well satisfied with my position."
"Thank you," he said with an awkward bow, and he left me alone.
Of course, I couldn't possibly marry him. But I suppose a woman's vanity compels her to take a more favorable view of any man after she's found out that he wishes to marry her. Anyhow, I find I don't dislike him at all as I thought I did. I couldn't help being amused at myself the next day. I was driving with Jessie, and she was giving me her usual sermon on the advantages of the Burke alliance—if I could by chance scheme it through. "You're very pretty, Gus," she said. "In fact you're beautiful at times. Men do like height when it goes with your sort of a—a willowy figure. Your eyes alone—if you would only use them—would catch him. And the Burkes would be—well, they might object a little at first because you've given them a position that has no doubt swollen their heads—but they'd yield gracefully. And although you are very attractive and are always having men in love with you, you've simply got to make up your mind soon. Look how many such nice, good-looking girls have been crowded aside by the young ones. Men are crazy about freshness, no matter what they pretend. Yes, you must decide, dear. And—I couldn't endure poor Carteret when I married him."
Carteret is a miserable specimen, and Jessie's ways keep him in a dazed state—like an old hen sitting on a limb and turning her head round and round to keep watch on a fox that's racing in a circle underneath. Fox doesn't seem exactly to fit Jessie, but sometimes I suspect—however—
"But," Jessie was going on, "I knew mama was my best friend. And when she said, 'Six months after marriage you'll be quite used to him and won't in the least mind, and you'll be so glad you married somebody who was quiet and good,' I married him. And I love him dearly, Gus, and we make each other so happy!"
I laughed—Jessie doesn't mind; she don't understand what laughter means in most people. I was thinking of what Rachel told me the other day. She said to Carteret, "It must be great fun wondering what Jessie will do next." And he looked at her in his dumb way and said: "What she'll do next? Lord, I ain't caught up with that. I'm just about six weeks behind on her record all the time."
But to go back to Jessie's talk to me, she went on: "And Mr. Burke's not so dreadfully unattractive, dear. Of course, he's far from handsome, and—well, he's the son of Mr. and Mrs. Burke—but though they're quite common and all that—"