“No,” he said, I suppose not. I did not think they did; “but pulse or no pulse, I offer you my heart and hand—not exactly in Tom’s language, perhaps——”
“I should think not! Tom’s language, indeed!” and Rena smiled scornfully, as she mentally contrasted this phase of lovemaking with Tom’s.
Rex certainly was crazy again, and beyond her control. Indeed, his was the controlling influence now, rather than hers; and she felt a little afraid of him, but sat still, while with an eloquence for which she had never given him credit, and which surprised himself, he told her that if he knew what love was he loved her, and had he known who she was when he first met her his heart would have gone out to her as it did now, and that in spite of a hundred Toms he asked her to be his wife. She would probably refuse, but he had done his duty.
“Duty!” Rena repeated. “You are a fine man to talk of duty! What of Irene, and her pulse? Did you ever ask how that beat?”
“No,” Rex said, while a shadow passed over his face. “I’d rather not discuss Irene except to say I never asked her to be my wife as I have you; and you won’t?”
“No, I won’t, and I am going now to tell Tom,” Rena replied, her eyes filling with tears.
This time Rex did not try to detain her, as she left him without a word and went in quest of Tom, whom she could not find. So she started home, feeling very hot and indignant and finally ending in a cry when alone in her room.
Meanwhile Tom, who had been in the stables when Rena was looking for him, had returned to Rex, whom he found with a look on his face such as an accepted lover might have worn. He had the copy of the will in his hand when Tom entered and said rather brusquely:
“Well, did you propose?”
“I did!”