“Of course, I 'll await her permission.”
“The chances are she'll say no; indeed, it is all but certain she will.”
“Then I must resign myself to patience and a cigar till you come out again,” said he, calmly.
“Shall I say that there's any reason for your visit? Do you know any Butlers, or have you any relationship, real or pretended, with the family, that would make a pretext for coming to see her?”
Had Miss Graham only glanced as keenly at Maitland's features now as she had a few moments back, she might have seen a faint, a very faint, flush cross his cheek, and then give way to a deep paleness. “No,” said he, coldly, “I cannot pretend the shadow of a claim to her acquaintance, and I can scarcely presume to ask you to present me as a friend of your own, except in the common acceptation given to the word.”
“Oh, I'll do that readily enough. Bless your heart, if there was anything to be gained by it, I 'd call you my cousin, and address you as Norman all the time of the visit.”
“If you but knew how the familiarity would flatter me, particularly were I to return it!”
“And call me Becky,—I hope! Well, you are a cool hand!”
“My friends are in the habit of amusing themselves with my diffidence and my timidity.”
“They must be very ill off for a pastime, then. I used to think Mark Lyle bad enough, but his is a blushing bash-fulness compared to yours.”