off.

How different is the behaviour of the modern young man. His courtship
can hardly be called a courtship at all. His methods are those of Sir
W. S. Gilbert's Alphonso.

"Alphonso, who for cool assurance all creation licks,
He up and said to Emily who has cheek enough for six:
'Miss Emily, I love you. Will you marry? Say the word!'
And Emily said: 'Certainly, Alphonso, like a bird!'"

Sam Marlowe was a warm supporter of the Alphonso method. He was a
bright young man and did not require a year to make up his mind that
Wilhelmina Bennett had been set apart by Fate from the beginning of
time to be his bride. He had known it from the moment he saw her on the
dock, and all the subsequent strolling, reading, talking, soup-drinking,
tea-drinking, and shuffle-board-playing which they had done together
had merely solidified his original impression. He loved this girl with
all the force of a fiery nature--the fiery nature of the Marlowes was a
byword in Bruton Street, Berkeley Square--and something seemed to
whisper that she loved him. At any rate she wanted somebody like Sir
Galahad, and, without wishing to hurl bouquets at himself, he could not
see where she could possibly get anyone liker Sir Galahad than himself.
So, wind and weather permitting, Samuel Marlowe intended to propose to
Wilhelmina Bennett this very day.

He let down the trick basin which hung beneath the mirror and,
collecting his shaving materials, began to lather his face.

"I am the Bandolero!" sang Sam blithely through the soap, "I am, I am