"Would you think it funny if I carried you off--really, you know--and--er--married you and made you live happy--" "You seem to insist upon the happy part of it, which is not at all--" "Necessary ?" I hinted.
"Plausible," she supplied sweetly.
"But would you think it funny, if I did ?" She regarded her broken pencil ruefully--or pretended to--and pinched her brows together in deep meditation.

Oh, she was the most maddening bit of young womanhood--But, there, no Barney for me.
"I--might," she decided at last.

"It _would_ be rather droll, you know, and I wonder how you'd manage it; I'm not very tiny, and I rather think it wouldn't be easy to--er--carry me off.

Would you wear a mask--a black velvet mask?
I should insist upon black velvet.

And would you say: 'Gadzooks, madam! I command you not to scream!' Would you ?" She leaned toward me, and her eyes--well, for downright torture, women are at times perfectly fiendish.
I caught her hand, and I held it, too, in spite of her.