"I was only idle from happiness," he said. "Isn't it all wonderful? Would you have had me go to tea with some foolish people whom I did not want to see?"
"I make you misanthropic as well. But I'm not ashamed if I make you happy."
Something stirred within her, some new beating pulse. She came a little closer to him.
"You looked so nice, Edward," she said, "this afternoon, when you stopped and spoke. But I couldn't bear your tie. I shall knit you one the same shade of brown as your eyes. I will do it at Bath."
"It is a great nuisance your going to Bath," he said. "Must you really go? I want you here. But the tie will be lovely."
"Oh, conceit," she said, "after I have told you it is to be the colour of your eyes."
"I forgot that. Aren't you being rather malicious?"
He looked up from her hand to her face. Never before had he noticed how bright and abundant was her hair, how delicate the line of black eyebrow. He corrected himself.
"Malicious, did I say?" he asked. "I meant—I meant delicious. And, talking of eyes, I must give you a turquoise engagement ring for the day, and a sapphire one for the evening."
"What has that to do with eyes?" she asked.