"Yes, and, my dear Jerry—Forgive me calling you so."
"I forgive you. There, go on," cried the now wondering acting warrant, taking her hand by way of encouraging her to proceed.
"Well, my dear Jerry, when I looked around me, I wondered where I could find a virtuous, good-looking girl, suitable to your mind—"
"That's poetry, dear friend, ain't it?" put in her visitor.
"I saw painted faces, false figgers, flaunting airs, brazen-nosed impudence, and, nothing but sham—all—everywhere."
"There ain't much sham about you," admiringly observed Thompson, glancing at her tightly-fitting silk dress, which set off her buxom figure to great advantage.
Mrs. Shever pretended not to hear this compliment, but continued—"Well, dear Jerry, I saw all this, and I said to myself, 'Now, I wonder if some good, kind, loving, devoted, amiable, not bad-looking, affectionate, well-to-do girl were to be willing—would he—make her a offer?'"
At this juncture the face of Thompson, who now began to what is vulgarly termed "smell a rat," assumed a roguish expression, and, quietly, pushing his finger into her side, he laughingly observed, "I say, Missis S., you don't mean to say you want to sacrifice yourself agin, do you?"
Mrs. Shever blushed violently, but being determined to carry it through, she fell into his arms, called him her own Jerry, and vowed he was a perfect "Dom Juam."
Thompson quietly unwound the somewhat impulsive lady, and having placed the table between them, was about to speak, when Mrs. Shever, finding her shots had fallen wide, and hearing Mary Ann's voice in the hall, suddenly assumed a severe air, and ordered him to leave the apartment.