“Won’t you always care that much about me?”
“I’m—yes—I’m afraid so, George. I never do change much about anything.”
“Well, then, why in the world won’t you drop the ‘almost’?”
Her distress increased. “Everything is—everything—”
“What about ‘everything’?”
“Everything is so—so unsettled.”
And at that he uttered an exclamation of impatience. “If you aren’t the queerest girl! What is ‘unsettled’?”
“Well, for one thing,” she said, able to smile at his vehemence, “you haven’t settled on anything to do. At least, if you have you’ve never spoken of it.”
As she spoke, she gave him the quickest possible side glance of hopeful scrutiny; then looked away, not happily. Surprise and displeasure were intentionally visible upon the countenance of her companion; and he permitted a significant period of silence to elapse before making any response. “Lucy,” he said, finally, with cold dignity, “I should like to ask you a few questions.”
“Yes?”