Barlow (aside). Magnificent bluff! But why? (Rubs his forehead ina puzzled way.) What the deuce is he driving at?

Yardsley. Kindly let me finish. I did say "I love you." I shouldhave said "I adore you; I worship you." I did say "Will you be mywife?" and I was going to add, "for if you will not, then is lightturned into darkness for me, and life, which your 'yes' will renderradiantly beautiful, will become dull, colorless, and not worth theliving." That is what I was going to say, Miss Andrews--MissDorothy--when--when Jennie interrupted me and spoke the word I mostwish to hear--spoke the word "yes"; but it was not her yes that Iwished. My words of love were not for her.

Barlow (perceiving his drift). Ho! Absurd! Nonsense! Mostunreasonable! You were calling the sofa the divinest of allcreatures, I suppose, or perhaps asking the--the piano to put on itsshoes and--elope with you. Preposterous!

Dorothy (softly). Go on, Mr. Yardsley.

Yardsley. I--I spoke a little while ago about sand--courage--when itcomes to one's asking the woman he loves the greatest of allquestions. I always was boastful. I pretwelveded that I had that courage;but--well, I am not as brave as I seem. I had come, Miss Dorothy, tosay to you the words that fell on Jennie's ears, and--and I began toget nervous--stage-fright, I suppose it was--and I always was foolish enoughto rehearse what I had to say--to you, and to you alone.

Barlow. Let me speak, Miss Andrews. I--