The thing troubled me! Odd I had not more carefully noticed before the wording of the jolly thing! But then of course my interest in it had not been so dashed personal as now. Kept running in my head now and disturbing me all the while Jenkins was busying himself about me. And then, as if I didn't have quite enough already to try me, Jenkins at the last moment chucked the crimson scarf altogether, and slipped through my collar a Persian bat! By Jove, I was so dashed annoyed, I took it from him to tie myself.
"Off and on with the old love!" It kept whispering itself in my ear till I hardly knew what I was doing. Could it be that she would—but, oh, dash it, no! I knew she wouldn't! And yet another chap might come along and she might find she would rather be engaged to him! Oh, but I was sure she was not so variable as that. Still a vague fear kept recurring; a miserable, tiny, pricking doubt—the crumpled what's-its-name in the bed of down, you know—that sort of thing!
What the deuce was the best thing to do?
"Pardon, sir," came in Jenkins' voice, and in the glass I saw his head piking anxiously over my shoulder; "but I think with them changeable kind, the best thing to try for is a sudden, firm knot!"
"Eh?" I said, staring. And then I whirled upon him, seizing both his hands.
"By Jove, Jenkins!" I exclaimed admiringly. "What a perfectly out-and-out corking idea—a regular ripper, you know! How devilish clever of you, dash it!"
"Certainly, sir!" Jenkins batted a little—always does when I notice these little things—so modest, don't you know.
But I had the idea now, and I gripped it tight along with my monocle, as, ten minutes later, I sauntered down the stairs.
I would speak to her father at once!