After much cogitation, he evolved a note which struck him as being a marvel of diplomacy.
"My dear Marian:
"I am glad the roses give you pleasure. Will you go to the theatre with me on Monday evening?
"Yours in haste,
"Tom."
Marian's reply was equally concise:
"My dear Tom:
"I am very sorry that I have an engagement for Monday evening and cannot possibly break it. You know I enjoy the theatre above all things, and I am sure I should have an especially pleasant evening with you.
"Sincerely,
"Marian Reynolds."
Tom grew decidedly uncomfortable. What the mischief was the matter with the girl! One thing was certain, next time he called, it would be at her invitation. But the following afternoon found him again at the house.
"Miss Reynolds is out, sir," said the servant as he opened the door, in response to his ring.
"I know," he responded impatiently; "I want to return a book I borrowed the other day."
"Certainly, sir," and the servant ushered him into the library.
He put the book in its place, and his glance, travelling downward met the waste basket. Marian's distinctive penmanship stared him in the face. "My Dearest!"