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Page 15
QUEX.
[_Dryly._] Yes. Will you talk about your love affairs, Chick, or shall
I--?
FRAYNE.
Certainly--you. Go on, Harry.
QUEX.
When I proposed marriage to Miss Eden--it was at the hunt-ball at
Stanridge--
FRAYNE.
[_His eyes sparkling._] Did you select a retired corner--with
flowers--by any chance?
QUEX.
There _were_ flowers.
FRAYNE.
I know--_I_ know! Nearly twenty years ago, and the faint scent of the
_Gardenia Florida_ remains in my nostrils!
QUEX.
Quite so. Would _you_ like to--?
FRAYNE.
[_Sitting._] No, no--you. Excuse me. You go on.
QUEX.
[_Sitting on the edge of the table, looking down upon_ FRAYNE.] When I
proposed to Miss Eden I was certain--even while I was stammering it
out--I was certain that my infernal evil character--
FRAYNE.
Ah, yes. I've always been a dooced deal more artful than you, Harry,
over my little _amours_. [_Chuckling._] Ha, ha! devilish cunning!
QUEX.
And I was right. Her first words were, "Think of your life; how can you
ask this of me?"--her first words and her last, that evening. I was
desperate, Chick, for I--Well, I'm hit, you know.
FRAYNE.
What did you do?
QUEX.
Came to town by the first train in the morning--drove straight off to
Richmond, to my pious aunt. Found her in bed with asthma; _I_ got her
up. And I almost went down on my knees to her, Chick.
FRAYNE.
Not really?
QUEX.
I did--old man as I am! no, I'm not old.
FRAYNE.
Forty-eight. Ha, ha! I'm only forty-five.
QUEX.
But you've had malaria--
FRAYNE.
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