"I presume we do; but we shall not get out, so the crowd in the dining-room will not incommode us. The contents of my basket will be sufficient. But if you wish a cup of coffee, it will be eight cents. There is a species of German cake at Centerville, remarkably filling for the price. They bring them through the cars."
"What time is it now?"
"About half past twelve; we reach Centerville at two. What age has Monsieur Heathcote, my dear?"
"Thirty-two or thirty-three, I believe."
"A gentleman of independent fortune, I presume?"
"He is independent, but, I was told, not rich."
"The position I should have supposed," said mademoiselle. "What penetrating eyes he possesses; penetrating, yet soft. There is something in his glance, coming from under those heavy brows, which is particularly moving—one might almost say tender. Have you observed it?"
Yes, Anne had observed it.
Jeanne-Armande, protected as she supposed from indiscretion by the engagement to the charming Mrs. Lorrington, rambled on, enjoying the real pleasure of being sentimental and romantic, without risk, cost, or loss of time, on this eventful day.
"I wish you could have seen Mr. Dexter, mademoiselle," said Anne, making an effort to turn the tide. "He is considered handsome, and he has a large fortune—"