"Can you assure me of success?" he asked, still smiling, but Rosalie observed that his eyes were very bright and very earnest.
"No," she said slowly. "One can not quite do that, you know."
He looked suddenly startled. "You don't mean—is there anybody— There can't be any one—"
"Has she told you about the bishop?"
"No, she hasn't mentioned the bishop—or anybody," he said in a voice quite changed.
"Why, Mr. MacCammon, you would not want to win your heart's desire too easily, would you? Think what a satisfaction it will be later on to know that you outclassed a bishop!"
"Yes, but suppose I don't. These—excuse me, these—bishops, you know—something about the cloth—the glamour of the church— But it helps to have your blessing. I thought you hadn't noticed."
"You thought I hadn't noticed? Mercy! What ails the man? Thought I hadn't noticed— Why, how could I help it?"
"I don't know. Hang that bishop! Oh, shucks, what is a bishop? Come on, congratulate me—do it right now, to spur me on and just to prove that we don't care two cents for the bishop."