"Could you possibly—conceivably—think of me as"—he hesitated, and then blurted out—"as, dash it all, head over ears in love with you?"
And then suddenly the Commander realised that he had not made a fool of himself after all.
The empty envelope was duly delivered, but no explanation was required. Mrs Brown's girl supplied all the information necessary.
"Of course I knew fine what he was after," said she.
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Ian Hay's Continued Chronicle of a Unit of K(l).