"Yes, wholly bent upon it."
"How amiable gentlemen are after dinner!" she exclaimed. "But where was your appetite this evening? Clearly our cook knows nothing of the preparation of ambrosia nor I of nectar, although I made the coffee myself."
"Did you? That accounts for its divine flavor. Don't you remember
I took two cups?"
"I saw that your politeness led you to send me your cup a second time. I suppose you accomplished a vast deal again to-day after you were once finally rid of an embodiment of April weather?"
"I would lose your respect altogether if I should tell you how I have spent the afternoon. You would think me an absurd jumble of moods and tenses. I may as well own up, I suppose. I have done nothing but kill time, and to that end I took a walk through Central Park."
"This hot afternoon! Mr. Van Berg, what possessed you?"
"A demon of impatience. It seemed as if old Joshua had commanded the sun to stand still again."
"You must indeed by a genius, Mr. Van Berg, for I've always heard that the peculiarly gifted were full of unaccountable moods."
"I understand the satire of your expression 'PECULIARLY gifted,' but my turn will come before the evening is over," and he leaned luxuriously back against the sofa cushion with a look of infinite content with the prospect before him. "Bless me, what is this over which I have half broken my back," he exclaimed, and he dragged out of its partial concealment a huge volume.
"Please let me take that out of your way," said Ida, stepping hastily forward with crimson cheeks.