"You're waiting for him?"
Once more she braced herself to look him in the eyes and answer boldly.
"I am."
He leaned back in his chair and laughed, not loudly, but in good-humored derision.
"If that's all that stands between us—"
To her relief he said no more; though she was disappointed that the subject should be dropped in a way that made it possible to bring it up again. As he was taking his leave she renewed the attempt to end the matter once for all.
"I know you think me foolish—" she began.
"No, not foolish; only romantic."
"Then, romantic. Romance is as bad as folly when one is twenty-seven. I confess it," she went on, trying to smile, "only that you may understand that it's a permanent condition which I sha'n't get over."
"Oh yes, you will."