"Well—no. There's a great deal more to say than I want to say. Let's talk about the landscape."
"No. I want to know what the question is which you wished you might ask," insisted Fanny.
"It's about Mr. Brinsley," said Lawrence, plunging.
"Well, what about him?" Fanny's tone changed perceptibly, and her expression grew cold and forbidding.
"Nothing particular—unless it's impertinent—so I won't ask it."
"You won't?" asked Fanny, slackening her pace and looking hard at him. "Not if I ask you to?"
"No," answered Lawrence. "I'd oblige you by asking a different question, but not that one. You wouldn't know the difference."
"That's ingenuous, at all events." She looked away again and laughed.
"I never fight when I can help it, and you looked dangerous just now. You always are, in one way or another."
"What do you mean?"