"Suppose, then, that one of these men was, oh, _awfully_ in
love with the girl, and--and proposed, you know--"

"A moment!" said the philosopher, opening a note-book. "Let me take
down his proposition. What was it?"

"Why, proposed to her--asked her to marry him," said the girl, with
a stare.

"Dear me! How stupid of me! I forgot that special use of the word.
Yes?"

"The girl likes him pretty well, and her people approve of him,
and all that, you know."

"That simplifies the problem," said the philosopher, nodding again.

"But she's not in--in love with him, you know. She doesn't
_really_ care for him--_much_. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly. It is a most natural state of mind."

"Well then, suppose that there's another man --what are you writing?"

"I only put down (B)--like that," pleaded the philosopher, meekly
exhibiting his note-book.

She looked at him in a sort of helpless exasperation, with just
a smile somewhere in the background of it.