"Perhaps not, any more than a woman could really understand a man. But I don't see that it matters, as long as they love one another."
Isabel was silent.
"What I don't understand in women is their passion for trying dangerous experiments," continued Paul. "Now, I am ready to suffer any amount of pain, if you could gain any benefit thereby; but I am not ready, I confess, to suffer any amount of pain, for you just to see how I look when I am suffering it."
Isabel tried not to smile, but failed. "Do you know when I am trying experiments on you?" she asked.
"Perfectly; I am not such a fool as you think, and I strongly object to the process. Besides it does as little credit to your eye as to your heart, because I really don't look at all nice when I am cross or unhappy. Now do I?"
"No, my dear Paul, I am bound to own that affliction is most unbecoming to you."
"Then why subject me to it?"
Isabel made another futile attempt not to smile.
"Look here," said her lover, "if you will only say straight out to me, 'I am going to talk to Mr. Jones or Mr. Smith just to make you jealous,' I shall know what you are driving at; and I will be a very Othello as long as it pleases you. In fact you needn't bring Jones or Smith into the concern at all; just say, 'Paul, I want you to be jealous for half an hour,' and I will entertain the green-eyed monster to any extent."
"How absurd you are!"