"
"But you _do_ love me, don't you, ARCHIBALD?--just a very small
fragment, you know."
She seized him by the ear and kissed him twice.
"Come, own up now," said she, "that from the first moment you saw me,
you have felt a sort of a spooney hankering, and a general looseness,
including a desire to write poetry and use hair-oil, and wear pretty
neckties; a sort of a feeling that your clothes don't fit you, and you
can't bear the sight of gravy, and dote on lavender kids, and want to
part your hair in the middle. _That's_ being in love, ARCHIE. That's--"
At this juncture voices were heard calling for ARCHIBALD.
"Oh, do, _do_ let me go," he pleaded.
BELINDA grasped him firmly by the collar. "Heaven knows," said she
impressively, "that I have wooed you thus far in a spirit of the most
delicate consideration. Now, I mean business, I want a husband, and by
the Sixteenth Amendment, you don't stir from this spot, until you
promise to marry me!"
"But--but--I don't want to get married," said ARCHIBALD; "I--I--ain't
old enough."
She glared at him menacingly.
"Am I to understand then," she shrieked, "that you dare refuse me?" And
she laughed hysterically.
"Oh, no, no. I wouldn't. Of course I wouldn't," groaned the ghastly
youth. "I'll promise _anything_, if you'll only let me go.
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