"Why do you say 'of course'?" asked Mr. Towle, in a surprisingly human voice. "Do you enjoy your life here so much?"
"No," said Jane, "I do not; but I'll not marry to escape from it."
The Honorable Wipplinger deliberately returned the hoop of diamonds to its nest, snapped the lid of the box shut, and slipped it back into his waistcoat pocket. "I didn't go at it right," he observed meditatively. "Robert should have warned me." He turned to Jane once more. "Do you—er—mind telling me just why you have turned me down so squarely?"
"I'd much rather not," said Jane, blushing. "You wouldn't like it."
"Oh, yes, I should. For one thing, you think I'm horribly old; don't you?"
"Well, you are; aren't you?"
"Not so very. I lost my hair in a beastly fever I had in India ten years ago, and it would never grow on top after that. As a matter of fact I'm only forty."
"Forty!" repeated Jane, in an indescribable voice. "Why that—" She stopped short. "I'd much better say good night at once," she said contritely, "and—and truly I do thank you. I didn't suppose anyone in the world would ever care about me. And you——"
"I certainly do," said Mr. Towle resignedly. "But I went about saying it like a jackass. To tell you the honest truth I was in a regular blue funk. I never proposed marriage to a woman before, and I never shall again. Of course, you don't know me very well, Miss Blythe; but I'm a whole lot nicer than I look. If you only could——"