There was a silence. So black was the enveloping darkness that the silence itself seemed heavy, as if forbidding conversation.
At last Cyrus spoke. "So far as I can learn, your face is like a baked apple, your teeth and one eye are gone, and you have no hair. But I'll take you as you are."
Ruth laughed. "Why, Cyrus! That's practically an offer of marriage! You appear even wilder and more reckless than when you were trying to discover whether you were in England or Massachusetts."
"On the contrary, I am wiser than you think. I was in love with you in Longfields—and I am finding now that neither time nor absence have changed that feeling. What's a tooth, an eye, or a few hairs more or less to an honest lover?"
"Honest humbug! You forget how well I knew you. You had no respect for truth."
"Yes, but only as a child. I am telling the truth now, on my honor. Let's not separate again. Why, it's beginning a new life! Come. Let's go back to the Unitarian Church and be married just once more. Only once more; that's all I ask."
"Indeed I shall not! I am not buying a pig in a poke. When daylight came and I really saw you I might be sick with horror."
"No, no! I'm not so bad as that! In fact I look about as I did when a boy, only—more beautiful."
"Then you are a funny looking man, Drowsy, with your sleepy eyes and your little buttoned-up mouth."
Cyrus laughed. "No, I swear I'm not funny looking. I have the same eyes, but my mouth is three times as long. It's one of the largest and most admired mouths in Massachusetts. But why these questions? You saw me a few minutes ago when I came along. The glare of those headlights ought to illuminate any kind of a face."