"Thank you, my dear," he said, quietly, "I may say sincerely that I think we shall grow very fond of one another. Waiter!—here, please."
A dress suit glided forward and an obsequious ear leaned down. The waiter knew quite thoroughly what was "doing", although by the expression on his face during the conversation between Daisy and Ware, one would have thought he was working out in his head a problem in trigonometry.
"May I speak to the manager?" said Ware.
The manager, who had curly jet hair, an immense slope of white waistcoat, and an Alice-blue chin, appeared in exactly fifteen seconds.
"Have you," said Sir William, "a room where a marriage ceremony may be performed?"
The manager started a smile—but it got no further than a slight twitch in the eye-corners before something in Sir William's expression,—though the baronet changed not a feature nor abated anything of his pleasantness—checked it.
"Yes, sir," the manager answered, voice and face returning instantly to business formality; "my office is at your service, sir, if you wish."
"That will do nicely, thank you," said Ware, rising; then to Daisy he said, as he offered his arm, "we will go there now—shall we?"
Daisy nodded, without speaking. Her faith in him was as absolute as it was instinctive and involuntary.