"Then you would have a lady," I said, "give a man encouragement before she knows whether he really loves her or not. Or you would have her advance step by step with him, like two armies in battle-array, watching each other's movements, and each taking care that the other did not get the slightest advantage; sure to get upon some slippery ground before they have done, my dear young lady!" Her face was now glowing like a rose, and she answered quite impatiently, "Pshaw! you know what I mean; and every man of common tact will, in his heart, admit that I am right."
"In neither one or the other of the two cases," I replied.
"What two cases?" she asked.
"Two assertions, I should have called them," answered I; "the one you just now made, and the preceding one, that men are entirely selfish in all that concerns women. I have seen cases in which no selfish motive could be discerned in the beginning, in the course, or in the end of such matters; and, being a good deal older than you are, I have had more means of judging."
"Why, how old are you?" she asked abruptly.
"Seven-and-twenty," I answered.
"I thought so!" she cried, with a joyous laugh; "but you look a good deal older."
"Indeed!" I answered, perhaps a little mortified; "but what makes you seem to rejoice that I am seven-and-twenty only?"
"Excuse me," she replied, dropping a low curtsy. "I might say, because that makes you just a fit age for myself, or a hundred other civil things. But I would rather say nothing, Sir Richard."
"Sir Richard!" I exclaimed. "How came you to give me that name, Miss Davenport?"