“What?” she asked, when I broke down completely.
“I was going to say that I usually play better, but something disturbed me that evening so that I was not myself;” and I fixed my loving gaze upon the threadbare carpet at my feet.
“Why, what was the matter with you?” laughed the vision of loveliness before me.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t seem to have the command of my faculties.”
“Then you must come again and redeem your reputation, if you feel that you did not do yourself justice.”
“Thank you! When shall I come?” I asked eagerly.
“As soon as you please.”
“If it were as soon as I pleased, it would be this very evening,” I added with a boldness which absolutely confounded me.
“Do come this evening then. We can make up a set without any other help.”
Why didn’t she say something about that bouquet, and thus enable me to advance a step nearer to the conquest. She did not, and I was afraid the five dollar trifle had been placed to the credit of Paul Grahame. I went away, but I hastened to the florist’s and bought another bouquet—price seven dollars. On the card I wrote, “In memory of a pleasant call. P. G******d.” She could not make Grahame out of that.