"I suppose you haven't got the gambling instinct," said Eva; "that's a great defect. You know none of the joy of telling your cabman that you will give him a shilling extra if he catches a train. It's equivalent to saying, 'I bet you a shilling you don't;' only he doesn't pay if he loses, and you do. But that's immaterial. The joy lies in the struggle with time and space."
"Do you mean that you like to keep things in uncertainty as long as possible?" asked her father, looking at her.
Their eyes met, and they understood each other. Eva looked at him a moment, and then dropped her eyes.
"Yes; I'm sure I do."
"Even when you have all the data ready, do you like not deciding?"
"Oh! one never knows if one has all the data; something fresh may always turn up. For instance—"
"Well?"
"I was thinking just before dinner that I didn't know what in the world I should do with myself all the autumn, and now you see Percy's arrived. I shall play about with him."
"I go away in two days," said Percy.
"Oh! well, I daresay something else will turn up. I am like Mr. Micawber."