“There, I’m speaking strongly,” said Saul, changing his tone, “because, of course, I feel strongly. You have always hung back from me, Gertie, because you did not thoroughly know me. But you are beginning to know me better, and I am going to wait patiently till you lay your hand in mine, and say, ‘Saul, dear, I am yours.’”
Gertie started, and looked at her visitor with lips apart, dazed at the confident way in which he prophesied of the future.
Saul noted it, and smiled to himself.
“It’s easy enough,” he said to himself. “Only got to let ’em feel the curb, and they give in directly.”
“Patience is the thing, Gertie, dear,” he continued aloud. “I suppose it will have to be a year first. There’s all that executor business to go through, and the law will be precious slow, of course, about giving up the property to the rightful heir. I’m the rightful heir, Gertie, there’s no mistake about that, and I think I’m behaving very fairly about you. It’s plain enough, now, that I didn’t come after you on account of your prospects, isn’t it?”
He rose as he spoke with a peculiar smile on his face, and made two quick steps across to where Gertrude was seated.
Her first thought was to spring up and make for the door, but, by a strong effort of will, she mastered herself and sat perfectly rigid in her seat, meeting his eyes without flinching, with the effect of disconcerting him, for he stopped short, and began tapping the crown of his hat. Had she tried to escape, he would have caught her in his arms.
“That’s better,” he said, after an awkward pause. “I like that. You’re getting used to me, Gertie, and I tell you what, my girl, it will be a fine thing for you. Do you now what you ought to do if you are the clever girl I think you to be?”
She shook her head. She dared not trust herself to speak, lest he should note the tremble in her voice.
“Make sure of me while you can. Not many girls have the chance of such a rich husband.”