"
Marguerite sang on, this time very tenderly:
"I'll give to you the key of my heart,
That we may love and never part,
If you will marry me, me, me,
If you will marry me."
"No man can give anything better," said Barbee, moving closer (as
close as possible) and looking questioningly full into Marguerite's
eyes.
Marguerite glanced up and down the street. The moment was
opportune, the disposition of the universe seemed kind. The big
parasol slipped a little lower.
"Marguerite. . . Please, Marguerite. . . _Marguerite_."
The parasol was suddenly pulled down low and remained very still a
moment: then a quiver ran round the fringe. It was still again,
and there was another quiver. It swayed to and fro and round and
round, and then stood very, very still indeed, and there was a
violent quiver.
Then Marguerite ran into the library as out of a sudden shower; and
Barbee with long slow strides returned to his office.
"Anna," said Professor Hardage, laying his book across his knee as
they sat that afternoon in the shady side porch, "I saw Marguerite
this morning and she sent her compliments. They were very pretty
compliments. I sometimes wonder where Marguerite came from--out of
what lands she has wandered."
"Well, now that you have stopped reading," said Miss Anna, laying
down her work and smoothing her brow (she never spoke to him until
he did stop--perfect woman), "that Is what I have been waiting to
talk to you about: do you wish to go with Harriet to Marguerite's
ball?"
"I most certainly do not wish to go with Harriet to Marguerite's
ball," he said, laughing, "I am going with you.
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