"Hello!" said he.
"I've been such a round!" said she. "Just to see whether they were following me. But they weren't. I guessed you'd come this way, and I went down by the embankment and up to try to meet you. Are they after you?"
"I don't think so. Dare we—"
"Wharf? Yes, I think we may. By the way, I'll show you."
She took him across Waterloo Bridge, where they took a cab and traversed southward to a point at which she directed the driver to stop.
On the way, Max, from his corner of the hansom, watched the girl furtively. For a long time there was absolute silence between them. Then he came close to her suddenly, and peered into her face.
"Carrie," said he, "I want you to marry me."
Now Max had been some time making up his mind to put this proposition—some minutes, that is to say. He had been turning the matter over in his brain, and had imagined the blushing, trembling astonishment with which the lonely girl would receive his most unexpected proposal.
But the astonishment was on his side, not on hers; for Carrie only turned her head a little, scarcely looking at him and staring out again in front of her immediately, remarked in the coolest manner in the world:
"Marry you! Oh, yes, certainly. Why not?"