VERY CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION
When Lockwood returned, only in time to dress for dinner, Walpole, whose room adjoined his, threw open the door between them and entered. He had just accomplished a most careful ‘tie,’ and came in with the air of one fairly self-satisfied and happy.
‘You look quite triumphant this evening,’ said the major, half sulkily.
‘So I am, old fellow; and so I have a right to be. It’s all done and settled.’
‘Already?’
‘Ay, already. I asked her to take a stroll with me in the garden; but we sauntered off into the plantation. A woman always understands the exact amount of meaning a man has in a request of this kind, and her instinct reveals to her at once whether he is eager to tell her some bit of fatal scandal of one of her own friends, or to make her a declaration.’
A sort of sulky grunt was Lockwood’s acknowledgment of this piece of abstract wisdom—a sort of knowledge he never listened to with much patience.
‘I am aware,’ said Walpole flippantly, ‘the female nature was an omitted part in your education, Lockwood, and you take small interest in those nice distinctive traits which, to a man of the world, are exactly what the stars are to the mariner.’
‘Finding out what a woman means by the stars does seem very poor fun.’
‘Perhaps you prefer the moon for your observation,’ replied Walpole; and the easy impertinence of his manner was almost too much for the other’s patience.