He shared her mood, with the exception that he had decided long since to obtain her hand if she was disposed to give it. To-night, more than ever, he felt the recklessness which had been growing upon him, and was inclined to follow her lead to the utmost, even warily to go beyond such encouragement as he might receive. He therefore replied vaguely, "One may wish the best in life, and not be able to obtain it."
"I see nothing embarrassing in that commonplace remark."
"There might be in its application."
"Possibly. Who knows to what one and one make two might lead?—a murder, like enough."
"Sometimes one and one make one."
"How odd! Still more so, that you should indulge in abstruse mathematics this hot night."
"That reminds me that a man is said to be merely a vulgar fraction till he is married, when he is redeemed into a whole number."
"If I were equal to it, I'd get a pencil, and preserve such great nuggets of abstract truth."
"When you are so concretely and distractingly enchanting, what other refuge is there for a man than the abstract?"
"Is the abstract a refuge?" she asked, looking dreamily out over the dark waters of the harbor. "Perhaps it is. It certainly suggests coolness which should be grateful tonight." Then turning, and with a mirthful and provoking gleam in her eyes, he remarked, "I should think this weather would be just to your taste."