"Good-afternoon," he answered, coming up to her side, and leaning upon the railing of the bridge.
"Are you thinking of suicide?" she asked, as he continued to look, not at her, but intently into the water.
"No, indeed!"
"Then don't look so melancholy, please."
"How shall I look?"
"I don't much care; only don't have that dreadful dead-and-gone expression."
"Shall I grin?"
"Of course not!"
"Why may I not look melancholy, then?"
"Because it does not please me to have you," she said.