Matters had taken a very unexpected turn and he began to feel his determination to depart oozing out of his fingers in a way he had not expected. His position, indeed, was absurd. He could not argue with Mamie the question of whether she had been in earnest or not. Therefore he was obliged to accept her statement, that she had been jesting. And if he did so, how could he humiliate her by showing that he still believed she loved him? In other words, by packing up his traps and taking a summary leave. He would only be making a laughing-stock of himself in her eyes. Nor was he altogether free from an unforeseen sensation of disappointment, very slight, very vague, and very embarrassing to his self-esteem. Look at it as he would, his vanity had been flattered by her confession, and it had also, in some way, appealed to his heart. To be loved by some one, as she had seemed to love, when that expression had passed over her face! The idea was pleasant, attractive, one on which he would dwell hereafter and which would stimulate his comprehension when he was describing scenes of love in his books.

“So of course you will stay and behave like a human being,” said Mamie, after a short pause, as though she had summed up the evidence, deliberated upon it and were giving the verdict.

“I suppose I shall,” George answered in a regretful tone, though he could not repress a smile.

“You seem to be sorry,” observed the young girl with a quick, laughing glance of her grey eyes. “If there are any other reasons for your sudden departure, it is quite another matter. The one you gave has turned out badly. You have not proved the necessity for ensuring my salvation by taking the next train.”

“I would have gone by the boat,” said George.

“Why?”

“Because the river would have reminded me to the last of this evening.”

“Do you want to be reminded of it as much as that?” asked Mamie.

“Since it turns out to have been such a very pleasant evening, after all,” George answered, glad to escape on any terms from the position in which his last thoughtless remark had placed him.

Mamie had shown considerable tact in the way by which she had recovered herself, and George was unconsciously grateful to her for having saved him from the necessity of an abrupt leave-taking, although he could not get rid of the idea that she had been more than half in earnest in the beginning.