"It is as much like her as if it were true," Ashley declared laughingly.
The serious, not to say petulant traits of Seymour were intensified by the conscious jeopardy of his happiness, and the continual doubt in his mind as to whether he had any ground for hope at all.
"By George! if I knew she was engaged—or—if I knew—anything at all about anything—I'd cut it all, and give it up. I don't want to be a source of amusement to her—or to be made a show of. Sometimes, I pledge you my word, I feel like a dancing bear."
"Miss Fisher has something of the style of a bear-ward, it must be confessed," said Ashley. "I fancied at one time she had a notion of getting a chain on me—she is enterprising, you know."
Then, after a moment, "Why don't you cut it all, Mark?"
"Oh," cried Seymour, with an accent of positive pain, "I can't. Sometimes I believe she does care—she makes me believe it."
"Well," smiled Ashley, banteringly, "you dance very prettily—not a bit clumsily—a very creditable sort of bear."
Another interval of silence ensued.
"I blame Baynell for all this," said Seymour, sullenly.