"Pixie, you little witch, don't be so blightingly matter-of-fact! I'm making you a declaration of love. Kindly receive it in a suitable fashion. ... A--a fellow expects a girl to be a little--er--sentimental and poetic, and--er--overcome, don't you know, not to begin at once to talk of _how much a head_!" "I've never been proposed to before. You must excuse me if I make mistakes. I'm quite willing to be sentimental; I dote upon sentiment," declared Pixie in anxious propitiation. ... "Let's go back to where you were talking about me! Tell me _exactly_ what it is that you most admire?" Stanor had been hoping for a little adulation for himself, but he gallantly stifled his feelings and proceeded to offer the incense which he believed would be most acceptable. "Your character, darling. Your sweet and tender heart!" "How nice," said Pixie flatly. She sat silent for a moment and then ventured tentatively, "_Not_ my personal charm?" "_And_ your personal charm. Both! You've more personal charm than any girl I know." This was something like! Pixie beamed content. At this moment she felt really "engaged," and agreed rapturously with all the encomiums which she had heard given to this happy condition. Success emboldened her to further flights. "The first time you met me you didn't admire me then! My _appearance_, I mean! You remember you said--" "I did. Yes! But you were so sweet in forgiving me that I admired you instantly for _that_!" cried Stanor, skilfully turning the subject to safer ground. "And when you're my wife, Pixie, you will seem the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes. It is very unworldly of you to consent without asking more about my affairs, for I am a poor match for you, little one. It takes years for a man to make a decent income in business, and I have so little experience. My uncle has always promised to buy me a partnership in some good firm, but of course there would have to be some preliminary training. And if he did not ... approve..." "But he _must_ approve; we must make him. We couldn't marry without his consent. He's been so good to you!" "He has, uncommonly good; but when it comes to marrying, it's a fellow's own affair. I shall go my own way..." "He's lame!" "Dear little girl, what has that to do with the case in point?" "Well, I think it has!" persisted Pixie obstinately. "It has to me. We must be nice to him, Stanor, and _make_ him be pleased, whether he wants to or not. ... Did you notice how naturally I called you `Stanor'?" "I did! Couldn't you manage to put something before it by way, of completion?" "Nice Stanor! Handsome Stanor! Clever, sensible, discriminating Stanor!" "Quite so," said the discriminating one dryly, "but I should have liked--" Suddenly he burst into a ringing boyish laugh. "This is the _rummiest_ proposal that was ever made!" Pixie looked anxious.