“Isn’t it? All right. I’ll eat whatever you say—eat till you tell me to stop.”
“It really isn’t enough,” said she, refusing to relax her seriousness. “But, to go on—now that it’s settled that we love each other—the question is: What shall we do about it?”
“Yes,” said he, nodding his head in solemn mockery. “That’s it. What shall be done about it?”
“How queer your voice is, Chang,” observed she, with a look of gentle, innocent worriment. “What’s the matter?”
“I had only coffee,” said he.
“You mustn’t do that again.... Have you any suggestion to make?”
“None. Have you?”
“Chang!” she said reproachfully. “You have a suggestion.”
“Have I? What is it?”
“The only possible suggestion. You know very well that the only sensible thing to do is to get married.”