"Nothing alongside of making 'em forget that you invented sandwiches. If it had been anything else, you might—I might—you—" She floundered helplessly. Her life for weeks had been so full of excitement that she could not co-ordinate her ideas quickly.
"You don't know me, dear," said H. R. "I hate to say it myself, but, really, I'm a wonder!"
He looked so confident, so masterfully sure of himself, so little like a dreamer, and so much like a doer, that Grace was impressed.
"Can you?" she asked, more eagerly than Mr. Goodchild liked to see. But then H. R. had never kissed him.
"With your hand for the prize and your love for my reward? Can you ask me if I can?"
"Yes, I can. Can you?"
"Yes!" he said. "But of course I'll need your help."
"My help?" Doubt came back into her eyes.
"Yes. This way." He took her in his arms and kissed her.
Mrs. Goodchild stared, open-eyed. Mr. Goodchild grew purple, and shouted: