“About The States. You feel they are the only place to live in?”
“Certainly,” Nancy replied promptly.
“Oh. Have you ever been to England?”
“No.” Nancy began to wonder at the antiquity of British customs. At this rate of progress, it would take aeons for a Britisher to evolve a custom of any sort. Already her mind had outstripped the deliberate mental processes of Barth. She also began to wonder impatiently how long it would take him to come to the point. There seemed to her something inhuman in allowing him to remain on the rack of suspense. Nevertheless, she felt that it would be altogether unseemly for her to refuse anything before she was asked.
“Don’t you want to go to England?” Barth continued calmly.
“Yes, of course. I want to visit it. However, that doesn’t mean that I wish to take up my abode there.”
“Oh. I am sorry. Still,” Barth went on meditatively; “I dare say one could make out very well, even if he had to live in The States.”
“I certainly expect to,” Nancy responded coolly.
Again he peered into her face.
“Oh; but I don’t refer to you,” he said hastily. “I was speaking of myself.”