“What makes you try?” the Lady asked.
It never seemed to occur to the young fellow to blush, as he answered,—
“Because I like her a great deal better than any other girl I ever saw.”
In spite of herself, the Lady smiled at the unqualified terms of his reply.
“It hasn’t taken you long to find it out.”
“No. But what’s the use of waiting to make up your mind about a thing of that sort?” Barth responded, as he plunged his hands into his trouser pockets. “You like a person, or else you don’t. I like Miss Howard; but, by George, I can’t understand her in the least!”
“Is there any use of trying?” the Lady inquired.
Barth stared at her blankly.
“Oh, rather! How else would I know how to get on with her?”
“But, by your own story, you don’t succeed in getting on with her.”