“He kissed me, mother; he kissed me,” answered the nymph, weeping.
“You ought not to have allowed him to do that,” said the Frau Professorin, with mild reproach.
“How could I help it, mother? He talked so beautifully to me. He proposed to me. And I forgot that I was Miss Jones. I was only myself—and—”
A second flood of tears made the rest unintelligible.
“Are you sure he proposed to you, child?” queried the mother, after a pause.
“Quite sure, mother.”
“But then he must have known you. For why should he propose to Miss Jones, to whom he is already engaged?”
“That is what makes me so unhappy, mother, for now I shall never know whether I am engaged to him or not.”
“Leave that to me, child. I’ll find out.”