"It's the first time I ever heard of a man having to pay a sovereign to ask a woman to be his wife!"
"Hand over the sovereign!" She became possessed of the golden coin. "This sovereign will be applied to the charitable purpose of erecting a monument over Pompey's mother's grave. Now, Mr. Ely, I'm your man."
Mr. Ely seemed a little subdued. The business-like way in which he had been taken at his word perhaps caused him to feel a certain respect for the lady's character. He reseated himself in the garden-chair.
"I've already said that I want a wife."
"Do you wish me to find you one? I can introduce you to several of my friends. I know a young lady in the village, aged about thirty-eight, who has an impediment in her speech, who would make an excellent companion for your more silent hours."
"The wife I want is you."
"That is very good of you, I'm sure."
There was a pause. The lady, with a little smile, tranquilly tickled Pompey with the sovereign she had earned. The gentleman fidgeted with his handkerchief.
"Well, Miss Truscott, am I to be gratified?"
"Why do you want me? Won't some one else do as well?"