“But I don’t intend that you shall wait, Robin,” interrupted Sam. “You need not go on talking so selfishly about yourself. You must consider the girl. I’m not going to stand by and see injustice done to her. You have paid marked attention to her, and are bound in honour to lay yourself at her feet, even at the risk of a refusal.”
“But how, Sam? I tell you if I wait—”
“Then don’t wait,—telegraph.”
Robin gazed at his friend in stupefied amazement. “What! make a proposal of marriage by telegraph?”
“Even so, Robin. You began life with electricity, so it is quite in keeping that you should begin a new departure in life with it.”
Sam rose, sought for paper, and with pencil wrote as follows:— “From Mr R. Wright, London, to Miss Letta Langley, — Hotel, Oban.—I can stand it no longer. May I come to see you?”
Presenting this to his friend, Sam said, “May I despatch it?”
Robin nodded, smiled, and looked foolish.
An hour later Mrs Langley, sitting beside her daughter, took up a pen, and wrote as follows:—
“From Miss Letta Langley, Oban, to R. Wright, London.—Yes.”