He had been about a foot from her, and he now scraped along the ground on his knees until he almost touched hers.
'You might try to say something of that kind,' she said, blushing, and with a little gasp. Now that it seemed to be coming she was put out; but, like a brave woman having her last chance, she kept her position and smiled encouragingly.
'Might I? Oh, thank you!' he cried with effusion.
Then he knitted his brows and rubbed his head. His serpentine faculty was in abeyance—these involuntaries of his had to cease in order that he might once in his life attempt to think.
As for Miss Jane, she was mistaken in imagining that he had the least notion of making love to her. He valued her only as a friend, and had splashed into the quicksand of a proposal of marriage without knowing it. She thought, however, that he only needed a touch to make him bury himself, like a flounder, head over ears in a declaration of love and an offer of his hand and heart; so she gave him that touch softly and sweetly.
'You said,' quoth she, 'with the utmost disdain, that you would as soon think of marrying me as my insolent niece.'
'I did, I did. Can you help me to contradict it emphatically?'
'I'm afraid not—dear Mr. Dempster.'
'Eh?' said he. 'Thank you.'
He felt dimly that there was something in the air—dimly, as protoplasm may feel its existence.