“All right,” rejoined Coleman, “it's always customary to say so in these cases, but it means nothing; as to the real question of mastery, that is a matter to be decided post-nuptially; you'll be enlightened on the subject before long in a series of midnight discourses, commonly known under the title of curtain-lectures.”
“Pleasant, eh?” returned Lawless; “well, I bet two to one on the grey mare, for I never could stand being preached to, and shall consent to anything for the sake of a quiet life—so move on.”
“'If this offer of my heart and hand should be favourably received by the loveliest of her sex,'” continued Coleman, “'a line, a word, a smile, a——'”
“'Wink,'” suggested Lawless.
“'Will be sufficient to acquaint me with my happiness.'”
“Tell-her to look sharp about sending an answer,” exclaimed Lawless; “if she keeps me waiting long after that letter's sent, I shall go off pop, like a bottle of ginger-beer; I know I shall—string won't hold me, or wire either.”
“'When once this letter is despatched, I shall enjoy no respite from the tortures of suspense till the answer arrives, which shall exalt to the highest pinnacle of happiness, or plunge into the lowest abysses of despair, one who lives but in the sunshine of your smile, and who now, with the liveliest affection, tempered by the most profound respect, ventures to sign himself, Your devotedly attached—'”
“'And love-lorn,'” interposed Lawless in a sharp, quick tone.
“Love-lorn!” repeated Coleman, looking up with an air of surprise; “sentimental and ridiculous in the extreme! I shall not write any such thing.”
“I believe, Mr. Coleman, that letter is intended to express my feelings, and not yours?” questioned Lawless in a tone of stern investigation.