"Poor man!" says Clarissa, sympathetically, "No wonder he seems strange at times: it is so depressing to be baffled. Why don't you help him, Dorian?"
"It would take two to help him," says Mr. Branscombe, looking faintly amused.
"Could I be of any use?"—eagerly. "I would do anything I could for him."
"No, would you?" says Branscombe, his amusement growing more perceptible. "I'm sure that's very good of you. I dare say, if Arthur could hear you say that, he would go wild with joy. 'Anything' is such a comprehensive word. You're sure you won't go back of it?"
"Quite sure,"—with some surprise.
"My dear Clarissa, is it possible you have not yet seen through Arthur's latest and greatest design?"
"If you intend to tell me anything, do so: beating about the bush always fatigues me to death," says Miss Peyton, in a tone of dignified rebuke. "What does Arthur want?"
"A little thing,—a mere trifle. He simply wants you to marry me."
"Really, Dorian," says Clarissa, coloring slowly, but warmly, "I think you might find some other subject to jest on."
"I never made a joke in my life; I hope I never shall," returns Branscombe, reproachfully. "What have I done, that you should accuse me of such a crime? I have only spoken the plain, unvarnished truth. To see you my wife is the dream of Arthur's life, his sole ambition. And just now, you know, you said you were quite prepared to do anything for him. You can't, with any sense of honor, back out of your given word."