“I don’t think I will go,” she said, feebly. “I think I am going to change my mind again.”
“All right,” he said, taking out his watch. “I will give you a minute. Shall I go or stay? You must make up your mind decidedly before to-morrow. There must be no fooling with sacred things.”
She roguishly bent her face over the watch.
“Time’s up,” he said; “good-bye.”
With a wilful shrug of her shoulders she took the watch in her hand. “Let me put it back.”
He stood patiently while she restored it to its place, and insinuated her thumb and finger in another pocket. “What’s this?” she observed, drawing out a slip of newspaper.
“Give it to me,” he said, trying to take it from her.
But she was too quick for him, and darting to the staircase read aloud the headings of the slip she held in her hand. “Boston Dustman Refused Seventeen Times by His Lady-love, Who Was a Rag-picker. Upon the Occasion of His Eighteenth Refusal Slapped Her in the Face, Whereupon She Promptly Accepted Him.”
“Horrid man! I would have slapped back!” exclaimed Nina, indignantly.
Captain Fordyce was grinning broadly. “Here,—give me that,” and he restored it to his pocket. “It brought me luck.”