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You're the fair maiden of my choice, Dodiekins, even if you aren't so rich as some." "Fair? but I'm a brunette," she corrected. "It's Genevieve you're thinking of. Confess now, it is, isn't it?" "No, indeed, no!" he protested. "I prefer brunettes always have! You're a perfect brunette, Dodiekins. I've always liked you more than Genevieve.
Bu-but you haven't asked me yet!" He moved along the davenport nearer to her, and attempted to clasp her hand. "You're a coy one, Dodiekins!" he replied. "Of course I'm asking you, you know that. You can't think I don't mean it. You know I mean it." "Really?" "Of course! Haven't I been trying to get a chance to tell you, all the evening? Of course I mean it!
"Oh, Laffie! how could you be so cruel?" she mocked. He was so far intoxicated that he mistook her sarcasm for entreaty. He responded with maudlin fervor. "Don't weep, Dodiekins! I'll be as easy on you as I can. You see, I must inform you on such things, if you're to be my fiancee." She was quick to note his mistake, and sobbed realistically: "Fi- fiancee! Oh! Oh, Laffie!