Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 267 of 399
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248 The Wiute Cat. had made up my mind to ask Dorothy my question, day after day slipped by and it was still unasked. The last day of my visit came. I was to leave by the last train, at ten o’clock. I passed the day with Dorothy, but said no word to her of what was on my heart. _Dinner- time came, and still I had said nothing. Lady Pownceby, after de- claring that she would forego her nap on this my last evening, went to sleep in the drawing-room, while Dorothy and I sat in our favourite seats by the window. She had some needlework, but not a stitch did she make. I had a book, but not a word did I read. The dog-cart was to be at the door at a quarter-past nine; it was now half-past sight. ‘Are you sorry your holiday is over ?” Dorothy asked. “Very,” I said laconically. Another silence ! ‘Will you have much work to do, when you get home?” she said. ‘“T hope so.” Silence again ! “You will forget all about us.” ‘Never.’ A quarter to nine! I was in a dreadful state. I was hot and cold by turns. I could not sit still. Nine o'clock! Still I had not asked my question. Many times I had opened my mouth to begin; then something seemed to grip my throat, and I could not utter a word. Five minutes past nine! I was in agony! I looked out of window; I took out my watch ; I played with the chain ; I crossed and uncrossed my legs ; I blurted out— “Are you sorry I am going ?” ‘“Of course. You have been very pleasant company.” I thought she spoke coldly, and saw again the metamorphosis of cat into curate. ‘‘May I hope that you would be pleased to see me again ? ” “Oh, yes!” Silence ! Ten minutes past nine! ‘** Dorothy ! ” NV es py “Will you—can you—are you engaged to the curate ?” “Oh, no! How absurd !” “Can you—will you—do you—would you like to be married ? ” “IT don’t know,” she laughed. “Would you—could you—Dorothy—I must tell you ‘ S—s—s—s—sh!! A prolonged hiss startled us both. I had Gomicbooks.co