“I declare, our Bohemianism progresses famously,” said she, half tartly. “What do you think of this proposal, Nelly?” The question came late, however; for Nelly was already on her way to the house.
“Don't go, that's a good girl. Don't leave me here to my own thoughts,—they 're not over jolly, I promise you, when I'm all alone.”
“Why, it's your good spirits that amaze me,” replied she. “I don't remember seeing you so cheerful or so merry long ago, as you are now.”
“You mean that I wasn't so happy when I had more reason to be so? But what if I were to tell you out of what a sad heart this joy comes; how every day I say to myself, 'This is to be the last of it!' Not,” said he, in a bolder voice, “that I want to think about myself; this terrible disaster that has befallen my family is infinitely worse than anything that can attach to me. Even yet I cannot bring myself to believe this great smash.” She made no answer, and he went on: “I can't make out if Nelly herself believes it. You all wear such cheerful faces, it 's not easy to understand in what spirit you take this reverse.”
“I think that your return has recompensed Nelly for everything.”
“She was always the best of us; it's no great praise, that same; but I mean—but it's no matter what I mean, for you are laughing at me, already.”
“No, indeed, I was not. If I smiled, it was in thinking how little all your casualties have changed you.”
“For that matter, I suspect we may compliment or condemn each other, whichever it be, on equal terms.”
“So at last I have got you to say a civil thing to me. You tell me I am the same delightful, fascinating creature you knew me long ago.”
“I said nothing about fascination,” said he, sternly.