"Yes."
His heart bounded—a little.
"Well, Miss Jarney—may I call you Edith?—I came here to ask you to marry me?"
"You?" she said, turning on him.
"Yes; me," he answered, dejectedly, for he caught the tone of her voice in no uncertain meaning.
"No," said Edith, firmly, looking at him, with a sort of a commiserated smile for his imbecility. "If you want to be my friend, Mr. Cobb, all right, you may consider me as such; but, as to marrying you, never can I make up my mind to that end."
"Dear Miss Jarney, you don't know the blow that you have struck me—it almost topples me over," he insisted, and Edith came near laughing in his face, so ludicrous was the expression that he had now assumed. "I have always thought you had encouraged me—"
"Oh, never was I guilty of such an offense, Mr. Cobb—never. You are laboring under a misconception, or a delusion, or something else. Encourage you, Mr. Cobb? How ridiculous!"
"Then, you refuse?" he asked, coldly and fiercely.
"I most certainly have my senses with me," she retorted, with a laugh.