I was cross with
disappointment. To be dashed to the ground, you know, just as I was
beginning--"Tell me some more about him," I went on. I'm a plain
business man and hang on to an idea like a bulldog; once I get my teeth
in they stay in, for all you may drag at me and wallop me with an
umbrella--metaphorically speaking, of course.
"Tell me his name, where he lives, and all."
"We were coming back from Colorado, and there was some mistake about our
tickets. They sold our Pullman drawing-room twice over--to Doctor Jones
and his mother, and also to ourselves. You never saw such a fight--and
that led to our making friends, and his proposing to Eleanor!"
"Then why in Heaven's name didn't she" (it was on the tip of my tongue
to say "jump at him") "take him?"
"She said she couldn't marry a man who was her intellectual inferior."
"And was he?"
"Oh, he was a perfect idiot--but nice, and all that, and tremendously in
love with her. Pity, wasn't it?"
"The obvious thing to do is to chase him up instantly.
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