No. (_Turning to her suddenly._) I was goin’ to ask you--well, of course, in a--a technical way, so to speak, I mean in a strickly technical way, so to speak, I’m not exactly of age yet, and I suppose I’d have to get my mother’s consent, because _she’s_ a widow, too, and got herself appointed my guardian besides; and the truth is, she’s a pretty cold-hearted, bossy kind of a woman, and it’s goin’ to be a big difficulty gettin’ her to see this thing right. MRS. CURTIS To see _what_ right? MR. BRIGGS The way I feel about you. I know it’s goin’ to be difficult, because I started to talk a little about it last night to my mother and my sister--her name’s Jessie--and they behaved--well, they behaved a good deal like two fiends. MRS. CURTIS They did? MR. BRIGGS I told ’em they didn’t know you, and they _haven’t_ even _met_ you, but they treated me like a--like a mere _jest_; and then they got so critical, the way they talked about you, it might be better if they didn’t see me with you again for a few days. I can’t stand the way they talk after they see me with you. MRS. CURTIS Indeed! MR. BRIGGS Well, what I was saying: I can’t touch my principal till I’m twenty-one on account of the way my father went and tied up his will; but of course my mother and sister think a good many’ll be after me on account of it; but, anyhow, I _have_ got to feeling this way, and I know I’ll _never_ get over it, so what I wanted to ask you--well, it’s--it’s--(_he swallows_) it’s just this: I know you _are_ a widow and everything like that, but would you be willing to--(_he swallows_) well, of course I don’t know how long since you lost your first husband-- MRS. CURTIS (_incredulously_) What! (_She rises._) MR. BRIGGS I mean I--I don’t know how you _would_ feel about gettin’ married again yet, even if I didn’t have my own difficulties about it, but--but-- MRS. CURTIS (_with increased incredulity_) Are you _proposing_ to me, Mr. Briggs? MR. BRIGGS Well--uh--yes. (_Then, looking beyond her down the corridor on the right._) Oh, goodness. They watch me like a hawk! Here comes my mother! (_Dismayed, he turns to the left._) MRS. CURTIS (_as he turns_) Perhaps it was time! MR. BRIGGS (_dismally_) There’s my sister Jessie! MRS. CURTIS What of it? MR. BRIGGS (_hastily_) I told you they behave like two fiends when they see me with you. (_Glancing right and left nervously._) Well, excuse me. (_With perfect gravity he kneels at one end of the settee, which is in the rear, a little left of “center.”_) It’ll be a good deal better if they don’t see me, I expect. (_He promptly crawls under the settee, and the valance conceals him entirely. From this invisibility he appeals with pathetic urgency in a hoarse whisper_): They’ll prob’ly go right on. _Please_ wait! Or--if you _haf_ to go, come _back_!