"Is she fond of you—Miss Fay, I mean?"
"Fond! Course she is. She dotes on me."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure! As sure as I am of my own existence. Why, the way she looks at me is enough! She has a look of helpless trust, an innocent confidence, a tender, child-like faith and love, and a beseeching, pleading, imploring way that tells me she is mine through and through."
Hawbury was a little surprised. He thought he had heard something like that before.
"Oh, well," said he, "that's the chief thing, you know. If you're sure of the girl's affections, the battle's half won."
"Half won! Ain't it all won?"
"Well, not exactly. You see, with us English, there are ever so many considerations."
"But with us Americans there is only one consideration, and that is, Do you love me? Still, if her relatives are particular about dollars, I can foot up as many thousands as her old man, I dare say; and then, if they care for rank, why, I'm a Baron!"
"And what's more, old boy," said Hawbury, earnestly, "if they wanted a valiant, stout, true, honest, loyal soul, they needn't go further than Rufus K. Gunn, Baron de Atramonte."