The professor had seemed grateful for Coleman's tangent off into matters of a light vein. " Yes?" he said, almost eagerly. " Are they selling a game really called that?"
" Yes, really," replied Coleman. " And of course you know that-er-well, all the Sunday papers would of course have big illustrated articles-full pages- with your photographs and general private histories pertaining mostly to things which are none of their business." " Yes, I suppose they would do that," admitted the professor. " But I dare say it may not be as bad as you suggest."
" Very like not," said Coleman. " I put it to you forcibly so that in the future the blow will not be too cruel. They are often a weird lot."
" Perhaps they can't find anything very bad about us."
" Oh, no. And besides the whole episode will probably be forgotten by the time you return to the United States."
They talked onin this way slowly, strainedly, until they each found that the situation would soon become insupportable. The professor had come for a distinct purpose and Coleman knew it; they could not sit there lying at each other forever. Yet when he saw the pain deepening in the professor's eyes, the correspondent again ordered up his trivialities. " Funny thing. My paper has been congratulating me, you know, sir, in a wholesale fashion, and I think-I feel sure-that they have been exploiting my name all over the country as the Heroic Rescuer. There is no sense in trying to stop them, because they don't care whether it is true or not true. All they want is the privilege of howling out that their correspondent rescued you, and they would take that privilege without in any ways worrying if I refused my consent. You see, sir? I wouldn't like you to feel that I was such a strident idiot as I doubtless am appearing now before the public."
" No," said the professor absently. It was plain that he had been a very slack listener. " I-Mr. Coleman-" he began.
"Yes, sir," answered Coleman promptly and gently.
It was obviously only a recognition of the futility of further dallying that was driving the old man on- ward. He knew, of course, that if he was resolved to take this step, a longer delay would simply make it harder for him. The correspondent, leaning forward, was watching him almost breathlessly.
" Mr. Coleman, I understand-or at least I am led to believe-that you-at one time, proposed marriage to my daughter? "