"Well, one's something," I remarked cheerfully. "Why didn't she take him then?"
"She told me only last night that she was sorry she hadn't!"
Here, at any rate, was something to chew on. I saw a gleam of hope. Why shouldn't Eleanor marry the only one—and make us all happy!
"That was three years ago," said Freddy.
"I have loved you for four," I retorted. I was cross with disappointment. To be dashed to the ground, you know, just as I was beginning—"Tell me some more about him," I went on. I'm a plain business man and hang on to an idea like a bulldog; once I get my teeth in they stay in, for all you may drag at me and wallop me with an umbrella—metaphorically speaking, of course.
"Tell me his name, where he lives, and all."
"We were coming back from Colorado, and there was some mistake about our tickets. They sold our Pullman drawing-room twice over—to Doctor Jones and his mother, and also to ourselves. You never saw such a fight—and that led to our making friends, and his proposing to Eleanor!"
"Then why in Heaven's name didn't she" (it was on the tip of my tongue to say "jump at him ") "take him?"
"She said she couldn't marry a man who was her intellectual inferior."
"And was he?"