He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. Proof? There is someone who might be willing to help. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. He’s a quiet person, and he says that quiet people should never become salesmen. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. But this was long ago.
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