"You have! you have!" he cried, with a grin of anger.
"I? You are dreaming."
"Sacramento! don't tell me I dream!"
"I shall have to tell you something worse," said I, getting up; "if you don't moderate your temper, I shall have to tell you that you are mad."
"That it should come to this!" he muttered, looking up, as though he apostrophised the air.
"You speak English fluently," said I; "let me entreat you to express yourself intelligibly that I may understand your grievance."
He left me; walked to the edge of the lawn, returned, approached close to me, and said,
"It is your intention, Sir, to marry, is it not?"
"What of that?"
"When, Sir, do you marry?"