He proceeded: "My character is lighted by four thousand lamp-posts also."
"Ah, I see! You want me to regard them as botanical facts. I, as a supposititious Martian, with this wonderful new cell, am to perceive in you something that is not true?"
"No, for in Mars, the lamp-posts, we will suppose, are vegetables—not mechanical objects."
"A little more light from the lamp-posts, please."
"They are emotions, alive and growing. They have heat as well as light, in spite of their subtleties. I want you to perceive the fact that my methodical nature shows that I have a determined, potent stimulus—that I have energy—that I am in earnest."
She seemed to sniff the danger now and stood at gaze. He went on:
"I shall keep at the attempt until you do look at me in this way—till I've educated these dormant cells."
"If you are leading up to another proposal," Clytie said, "I must say I admire your devotion to method, but it is time thrown away."
He took this calmly enough. He took everything calmly; but he did not abate his persistence. "I'm not leading up to a proposal so much as I am to an acceptance."
Clytie shrugged her shoulders. "You'll be telling me you're in love with me next."