"Name," said Notely, with touching legal precision, "condition on which you'll marry me."
"You must never, never drink like this again. I did not know that you ever did this. Oh, how it has hurt me!" The lace fell back from her white arms, there was a perfume of flowers about her; bright brown eyes are lovelier when suffused with tears.
"Thanks!" said Notely, meaning to come up to the full measure of the occasion. "I'm not—not worthy. No—no—no previous engagement, how'ver."
But he was so gentle, she took his arm and led him in. Mrs. Langham, who always spoiled him, entering stately in silk and gems, engaged him in a game of cribbage, humoring gravely all his startling and original vagaries in the game.
"What does it mean?" cried Grace to Mrs. Garrison.
"It was an accident, not an excess, my child," said the mother, smiling proudly. "It should never be mentioned in connection with my son; it is no part of him."
Mrs. Garrison was strangely assured in her own heart that Vesty Kirtland would never tell the son of his mother's visit to her. She did not mean that Grace Langham should ever know the full cause that had unsettled him.
"We must be very tender with him, keep near to him," she said, "or, when he recovers, he may do himself harm, with remorse, and—the fear of losing your love, Grace."
They were very tender with him. And by good chance, too, the post brought a famed "Review," copying entire the brilliant fellow's essay on "American Politics," with the editor's comment of "masterly."
"See!" screamed Grace; "it says 'masterly.'"