"What on earth do you mean?" The widow sat up straight and her bangles jingled warningly.
"And you could have Saturday and Wednesday evenings out. Those are my club nights."
"How dare you!"
"And any salary you might ask—"
"What are you talking about, Billy Travers?"
"YOU'VE taken all the poetry out of it."
Page 72
"I'm making you a proposal of marriage," explained the bachelor in an injured tone. "Don't you recognize it?"
The widow rose silently, lifted the sheet of paper in her hands and tore it to pieces.