These qualities somehow attracted him now. He was a gentleman; he tried to hold himself very erect against the trellis, and put the question delicately.
"Light—light—light of my soul!" he said.
Grace threw down her book and screamed. Then she put her hands over her face and fell to crying.
Notely took out his handkerchief and wiped his own eyes with the choicest deliberation of sympathy.
"All—all seem to be weeping to-day," he said.
"Oh, you wretch! you brute! you brute!" cried Grace.
Notely, though much flattered, continued diplomatically mopping his eyes.
At length he desisted; and Grace, looking out and seeing his keen, handsome profile staring out so desolately, came down from the hammock.
She shivered a little; drunken men were horrid, even dangerous. But Notely! She came up heroically and put her hand on his sleeve.
"There is one condition, Notely, on which I can—consider your proposal."