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CHAPTER V - JIMMY LANDS ONE.
Miss Elizabeth Compton sat in the dimly lighted library upon a deep-cushioned,
tapestried sofa. She was not alone, yet although there were many comfortable
chairs in the large room, and the sofa was an exceptionally long one, she and her
companion occupied but little more space than would have comfortably
accommodated a single individual.
"Stop it, Harold," she admonished. "I utterly loathe being mauled."
"
But I can't help it, dear. It seems so absolutely wonderful! I can't believe it--that
you are really mine."
"But I'm not--yet!" exclaimed the girl.
"There are a lot of formalities and bridesmaids and ministers and things that
have got to be taken into consideration before I am yours. And anyway there is no
necessity for mussing me up so. You might as well know now as later that I
utterly loathe this cave-man stuff. And really, Harold, there is nothing about your
appearance that suggests a cave-man, which is probably one reason that I like
you."
"Like me?" exclaimed the young man. "I thought you loved me."
"I have to like you in order to love you, don't I?" she parried. "And one certainly
has to like the man she is going to marry."
"Well," grumbled Mr. Bince, "you might be more enthusiastic about it."
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