That's why I'm
afraid, why I don't want to ask her. What'd such a glorious creature
see in a poor, puny little thing like me?"
"George, you're not over-handsome," admitted Dave, shaking his head.
"But you can never tell about women. Sometimes they like even
little, insignificant fellows. Don't be too scared about asking her.
Besides, it will make it easier for me. You might tell her about
me--you know, sort of feel her out, so I'd---"
Dave's voice failed him here; but he had said enough, and that was
most discouraging to poor George. Dave was so busy screwing up his
courage that he forgot all about his friend.
"No; I couldn't," gasped George, falling into a chair. He was
ghastly pale. "I couldn't ask her to accept me, let alone do another
man's wooing. She thinks more of you. She'll accept you."
"You really think so?" whispered Dave, nervously.
"I know she will. You're such a fine, big figure of a man. She'll
take you, and I'll be glad. This fever and fretting has about
finished me. When she's yours I'll not be so bad. I'll be happy in
your happiness. But, Dave, you'll let me see her occasionally, won't
you? Go! Hurry--get it over!"
"Yes; we must have it over," replied Dave, getting up with a brave,
effort. Truly, if he carried that determined front to his lady-love
he would look like a masterful lover.
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