"I see. You want a wife." With her calmest, coolest air Miss Truscott continued stroking Pompey's head. "Did you notice how they are wearing the hats in town?"
Mr. Ely sprang--literally sprang!--about an inch and a half from the ground. "What the dickens do I know about the hats in town?"
"Mr. Ely! How excited you do get! I thought everybody knew about the hats in town--I mean, whether they wear them on the right side or the left."
Mr. Ely was not an excitable man as a rule, but he certainly did seem excited now. His handkerchief, which he had kept in his hand since the commencement of the interview, he had kneaded into a little ball which was hard as stone.
"Miss Truscott, I'll--I'll give a sovereign to any charity you like to name if you'll stick to the point for just two minutes."
"Hand over the sovereign!"
Mr. Ely was taken aback. Miss Truscott held out her small, white hand with a promptitude which surprised him.
"I--I said that I would give a sovereign to any charity you like to name if you'll stick to the point for just two minutes."
"Cash in advance, and I'll keep to any point you like to name for ten."
Mr. Ely was doubtful. Miss Truscott looked at him with eyes which were wide enough open now. Her hand was unflinchingly held out. Mr. Ely felt in the recesses of his waistcoat pocket. He produced a sovereign purse, and from this sovereign purse he produced a coin.