"What do you mean 'need me as a friend'? Want me to run an errand for you? All right, off I go."
"No, Billy; I need your sympathy. We're old pals, and ought to stand by each other."
He looked at her with a dawning understanding.
"Merry," he said, with the conviction of one who has made a great discovery,—"you're unhappy!"
"Perhaps," she admitted; "I'm not sure."
"I knew it!" he declared with satisfaction. "You are unhappy and I know the reason why: you're in love with me without realizing it. You're fighting against your destiny and you don't understand what the trouble is. That's why you are unhappy."
"No, no, Billy; that isn't it."
"Yes, it is; you take my word for it. We'll just slip it over on the whole bunch, get married, and then you'll see. You'll be as happy as a lark."
"Oh! Billy, I do wish you'd be serious!"
"Serious? ha! I should say I was serious! And to show you how sure I am I'm right, I'll make you a sporting proposition: if our getting married doesn't shake your fit of blues then we'll call the whole thing off. What do you say?"