“I didn't say you were ugly,” declared the ever considerate Honora.
“Only my nose is too big,” he quoted; “and I am too long one way and not wide enough.”
“You have a certain air of distinction in spite of it,” said Honora.
Uncle Tom's newspaper began to shake, and he read more industriously than ever.
“You've been reading—novels!” said Peter, in a terrible judicial voice.
Honora flushed guiltily, and resumed her inspection of the stocking. Miss Rossiter, a maiden lady of somewhat romantic tendencies, was librarian of the Book Club that year. And as a result a book called “Harold's Quest,” by an author who shall be nameless, had come to the house. And it was Harold who had had “a certain air of distinction.”
“It isn't very kind of you to make fun of me when I pay you a compliment,” replied Honora, with dignity.
“I was naturally put out,” he declared gravely, “because you said you wouldn't marry me. But I don't intend to give up. No man who is worth his salt ever gives up.”
“You are old enough to get married now,” said Honora, still considerate.
“But I am not rich enough,” said Peter; “and besides, I want you.”