"I know I ought," said he, pulling a chair up close to hers. "That's what I came to see you about, Anne." She gave a little shriek of wonder. "For heaven's sake, Simmy, don't tell me that _you_ are going to be married. I can't believe it." He made note of the emphasis she put upon the pronoun, and secretly resented it. "Depends entirely on you, Anne," he said. He looked over his shoulder to see if any one was within the sound of his voice, which he took the precaution to lower to what had always been a successful tone in days when he was considered quite an excellent purveyor of sweet nothings in dim hallways, shady nooks and unpopulated stairways. "I want you to marry me right away," he went on, but not with that amazing confidence of yester- years. Anne blinked. Then she drew back and stared at him for a moment. A merry smile followed her brief inspection. "Simmy, you've been drinking." He scowled, and at that she laughed aloud. "'Pon my soul, not more than three, Anne. I rarely drink in the middle of the day. Almost never, I swear to you. Confound it, why should you say I've been drinking? Can't I be serious without being accused of drunkenness? What the devil do you mean, Anne, by intimating that I—" "Don't explode, Simmy," she cried. "I wasn't intimating a thing. I was positively asserting it. But go on, please. You interest me. Don't try to look injured, Simmy. You can't manage it at all." "I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled. "Did you come here to insult me?" she inquired, the smile suddenly leaving her eyes. "Good Lord, no!" he gasped. "Only I don't like what you said a minute ago. I never was more serious or more sober in my life. You've been proposed to a hundred times, I suppose, and I'll bet I'm the only one you've ever accused of drinking at the time. It's just my luck. I—" "What in the world are you trying to get at, Simmy Dodge?" she cried. "Are you really asking me to marry you?" "Certainly," he said, far from mollified. She leaned back in the chair and regarded him in silence for a moment. "Is it possible that you have not heard that I am to be married this month?" she asked, and there was something like pity in her manner. "Heard it? Of course, I've heard it. Everybody's heard it. That's just what I've come to see you about. To talk the whole thing over. To see if we can't do something. Now, there is a way out of it, dear girl. It may not be the best way in the world but it's infinitely—" "Are you crazy?" she cried, staring at him in alarm. "See here, Anne," he said gently, "I am your friend. It will not make any difference to you if I tell you that I love you, that I've loved you for years. It's true nevertheless. I'm glad that I've at last had the courage to tell you. Still I suppose it's immaterial. I've come up here this afternoon to ask you to be my wife. I don't ask you to _say_ that you love me. I don't want to put you in such a position as that. I know you don't love me, but—"