"But I can't, Sam. I haven't got the pluck. I 'm such a miserable sort of fellow—how could I expect such a creature to throw herself away on me? Besides, it 's all very well your saying you have good ground for believing she cares for me; but how can you know? Of course you have not dared to speak to her?"
Robin looked actually fierce at the bare idea of such a thing.
"No, I have not dared," said Sam.
"Well, then. It is merely your good-natured fancy. No, my dear fellow, it is my fate. I must bow to it. And I know that if I were to wait till I see her again, all my courage would have oozed away—"
"But I don't intend that you shall wait, Robin," interrupted Sam. "You need not go on talking so selfishly about yourself. You must consider the girl. I 'm not going to stand by and see injustice done to her. You have paid marked attention to her, and are bound in honour to lay yourself at her feet, even at the risk of a refusal."
"But how, Sam? I tell you if I wait—"
"Then don't wait,—telegraph."
Robin gazed at his friend in stupefied amazement.
"What! make a proposal of marriage by telegraph?"
"Even so, Robin. You began life with elec-
