“Really!”
“Of a surety.”
“But what made you want to know me?” she continued. “I had a good reason for desiring your acquaintance, but you can have had no equally good one for desiring mine.”
“No,” he said quickly and decidedly; “that is, of an undenying, most true.” He knit his brows and reflected for the space of time consumed in passing nine of the regularly disposed trees which shade the boulevard just there, for they were now moving slowly in the direction of the bridges, and then he spoke. “I do not know just why, yet I am glad that it is to be.”
“Would you have asked some one to introduce you if I had not sent for you?”
He thought again, this time for the space of six trees only, then:
“No, I do not think so.”
“Why not? since you wanted to meet me.”
“I never get myself made known to any one, because if I did that, then later, when they weary me, as they nearly always do, I must blame myself only.”
“Do most people weary you—later.”