"Dear me, no."
"Poor Potter--for one."
"Sally, I do wish he wouldn't--do that sort of thing, since you speak of it. It makes it so embarrassing. And somehow, I don't feel he really means it. I've always the impression that--that he does it because he thinks he ought."
"He'd like to marry you, Betty. There's no doubt of that. And one can't blame him for it."
"Well, if he keeps on, I shall be driven away," I said. "Although they don't want me to go home yet, for--for several reasons. I don't want to go, either. I'm having a wonderful experience. But——"
"Haven't you met any man you could imagine yourself caring for, deah? Or, perhaps, you don't fancy Americans."
"Oh, I do," I exclaimed. "They're all great fun. And one--one man I've met I think superior to any other I ever knew. But then, I've known so few, and I don't know him well. You needn't look at me like that. It isn't a romance, you dear. I'm most unlikely to know him any better, ever. He--isn't like the rest. He isn't like anybody else I ever saw."
"Now," said Sally, coaxingly, "you might tell me if he's one of the three who proposed?"
"Indeed, he isn't, and he never will. Why, Sally, I don't mind telling you I mean that Mr. Brett, who was on the ship, and whom we met afterwards accidentally in the Park. He is rather wonderful--considering his station--isn't he?"
"He'd be rather wonderful in any station. That's my theory about him."