"May I have a word with you, sir?"
"Of course. The air's rather thick in here," he apologized.
"Just wait!" she said, ominously, and stalked in like a young Zenobia. He put out an appealing hand: "Now, Marjorie, listen to reason. Of course I know you won't marry me now."
"Oh, you know that, do you?" she said, with a squared jaw.
"But, really, you ought to marry me—not merely because I love you—and you're the only girl I ever——" He stopped short and she almost smiled as she taunted him: "Go on—I dare you to say it."
He swallowed hard and waived the point: "Well, anyway, you ought to marry me—for your own sake."
Then she took his breath away by answering: "Oh, I'm going to marry you, never fear."
"You are," he cried, with a rush of returning hope. "Oh, I knew you loved me."
She pushed his encircling arms aside: "I don't love you, and that's why I'm going to marry you."
"But I don't understand."