She laughed.
“Really! Well, you could not see him with any one else’s eyes, could you?”
“That answer is merely flippant,” retorted the Philosopher. “Flippant—I might say rude!”
“Oh-h-h!” She made a little whistling round of her mouth, and her blue eyes flashed.
“Rude!” he repeated, rather raspily. “And I venture to say that in an open field, within a few yards of the public road, a man who is such a fool as to drop on one knee at a woman’s feet ought to be—ought to be”—here he waved one arm magisterially—“removed—forcibly removed to Hanwell or Colney Hatch! He is not responsible for his actions!”
“No,” she interposed, mischievously. “No man in love is!”
“In love!” The Philosopher snorted. “You call that love? To make a ridiculous exposure of himself and you in full view of spectators—”
She pointed a little finger at him.
“Only one spectator,—you!” she said. “And where were you?”
He gave another snort.