“Did you ever tell her how much you had saved?”
“No, that I didn’t, only as I was saving, so it’s all fair. Look here, youngster—I mean Antony,” he said, after standing staring in the glass for a few minutes, “I tell you what it is, you coming up has about brought matters to a head.”
“Has it, Bill?”
“Yes, it hayve, my boy. Do you know, I don’t for the life of me know why we two have been waiting; do you?”
“No,” I said shaking my head.
“No, nor more don’t Mary, I’ll bet a sixpence. We got engaged to one another, and then we said as it wouldn’t be sensible, to get married at once, as we might both see some one we liked better, don’t you see?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling puzzled all the same, “it was very prudent.”
“I could have got married lots o’ times since, but I’ve never seen a girl as I liked so well, and I s’pose Mary hasn’t seen a chap, for she keeps on writing.”
“Oh yes; and she thinks a deal of you. She’s very proud of you.”
“Is she, though?” he said, with a satisfied smile, and giving his head a shake in his stock. “Well, then, I tell you what: I’ll write and ask Mary to say the day, and then meet her at the station. We’ll take a little bigger place, and she’ll come up and make us both comfortable. What do you say to that?”