Outside the sun was setting in a magnificent arch of light and colour over the snow-clad hills and deep blue St. Lawrence gulf . David grasped at the sunset as an introductory factor . `` Is n't that fine , Josephine ? '' he said admiringly . `` It makes me think of that piece of poetry that used to be in the old Fifth Reader when we went to school . D'ye mind how the teacher used to drill us up in it on Friday afternoons ? It begun ` Slow sinks more lovely ere his race is run Along Morea 's hills the setting sun . ' '' Then David declaimed the whole passage in a sing-song tone , accompanied by a few crude gestures recalled from long-ago school-boy elocution . Josephine knew what was coming . Every time David proposed to her he had begun by reciting poetry . She twirled her towel around the last plate resignedly . If it had to come , the sooner it was over the better . Josephine knew by experience that there was no heading David off , despite his shyness , when he had once got along as far as the poetry . `` But it 's going to be for the last time , '' she said determinedly . `` I 'm going to settle this question so decidedly to-night that there 'll never be a repetition . '' When David had finished his quotation he laid his hand on Josephine 's plump arm . `` Josephine , '' he said huskily , `` I s ` pose you could n't -- could you now ? -- make up your mind to have me . I wish you would , Josephine -- I wish you would . Do n't you think you could , Josephine ? ''
Josephine folded up her towel , crossed her hands on it , and looked her wooer squarely XXXXX the eyes .
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