“I do Miss Smith no dishonor when I ask her to be my wife,” said The Author, haughtily. “I am no adventurer.  She can never suspect me of ulterior motives!”

“Heavens, no!  Like Caesar’s wife, you are above suspicion; which, of course, gives you the right to suspect everybody else!  But you were about to propose to Miss Smith in due form, were you not?  Miss Smith, you will permit me to withdraw?  I have never before been a third party to a proposal of marriage, and I confess I do not exactly understand what is expected of me,” said Mr. Jelnik, delicately.

The Author smiled wryly.

“You succeed in making me appear a fool,” he admitted.  “That is no mean achievement, young man!  I merely wished to set myself straight with Miss Smith, to leave her no room for doubt as to my absolute honesty of purpose toward her; and you,” said The Author, gulping, “you have made me bray!  I wish you’d clear out.  You are in the way, if you want the truth.  And,” he added, clenching his hands, “you can think yourself lucky that you’re getting out with a whole skin, da—­confound you!”

Mr. Jelnik smiled so sweetly that I was terrified.

“Oh, a whole skin!” he repeated, thoughtfully.  “My good sir, I was born with a whole skin, and I rather expect to die with one.”  He looked at The Author reflectively:  “Of course, I don’t know what Miss Smith’s feelings may be in regard to you, but if I thought you were seriously annoying her, I give you my word I should pitch you out of the window without further ado.  Miss Smith,” he turned to me, his eyes gentling with compassion, “I am more sorry than I can say that you should be called upon to endure this further strain.  You will, I trust, forgive my unwilling share in it.  Now, shall I leave you?”

“No, stay,” said I, flatly.

Mr. Jelnik sat down, and with unruffled composure, waited for The Author to unbosom himself further.

“Miss Smith,” The Author spoke after a pause,—­and oh, I give him credit for his courage at that trying moment!—­“Miss Smith, I have placed myself, and you also, in what appears to be rather an absurd position.  I am sorry.  But I meant exactly what I said.  I base my right to question you upon the fact that I intended asking you to marry me.  You need a protector, if ever woman did.  I offer you the protection of my name.”

I sat on the divan and stared at him owlishly.  He went striding up and down the room, pausing every now and then to look down at me.

“When I came to Hyndsville,” he went on, “nothing was farther from my thoughts than the desire to marry anybody.  I have never considered myself a marrying man.  But I find myself liking you, Miss Smith, better than I have ever liked any other woman, and for better reasons.  You would make me an excellent wife, the only sort of wife a man like me could endure.  And I think I should make you a good husband.  I am not really so great a bear,” he added, hastily, “as at times I appear to be.  I should really try to make you happy.  Now then, what have you to say?”