I shall be downright glad to see him again. You used
him abominably."
"But you need not keep saying so," whined Rosa. "And that is not all,
dear papa; the worst of it is, Mr. Falcon proposing to me has opened my
eyes. I am not fit to be trusted alone. I am too fond of dancing, and
flirting will follow somehow. Oh, think how ill I was a few months ago,
and how unhappy you were about me! They were killing me. He came and
saved me. Yes, papa, I owe all this health and strength to Christopher.
I did take them off, the very next day, and see the effect of it and my
long walks. I owe him my life, and what I value far more, my good looks.
La! I wish I had not told you that. And after all this, don't I belong
to my Christopher? How could I be happy or respect myself if I married
any one else? And oh, papa! he looks wan and worn. He has been fretting
for his Simpleton. Oh, dear! I mustn't think of that--it makes me cry;
and you don't like scenes, do you?"
"Hate 'em!"
"Well, then," said Rosa, coaxingly, "I'll tell you how to end them.
Marry your Simpleton to the only man who is fit to take care of her. Oh,
papa! think of his deep, deep affection for me, and pray don't snub
him if--by any chance--after dinner--he should HAPPEN to ask
you--something.
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