“I have not the least idea what I talked to her. It was quite immaterial. The language of the eyes—”
“Oh, you might be a boy!”
“I was,” said I, nodding again.
There was a long silence. Dolly looked at me; I looked at the fire. I did not, however, see the fire. I saw something quite different.
“She liked me very much,” I observed, stretching my hands out toward the blaze.
“You absurd old man!—” said Dolly. “Was she very charming?”
“She was perfect.”
“How? Clever?”
I waved my hand impatiently.
“Pretty, Mr. Carter?”