On this subject they could agree, and Patience kept him to it as long as possible.
After dinner Burr went with Mr. Peele into the library. Patience, passing through the room, found them talking earnestly upon the great question of the day,—the financial future of the country. She paused a moment, then sat down. To her surprise she found that Burr was master of his subject, and possessed of a gift of words which fell little short of eloquence.
The argument lasted an hour, during which Patience sat with her elbows on the table, her chin on her folded hands, her eager eyes glancing from one to the other. Occasionally she smiled responsively as Burr made some felicitous phrase. When the discussion was over, Mr. Peele left the room. Burr arose at once and seated himself beside her.
“I never talked so well,” he said. “You inspired me;” and he took her hand in the matter-of-fact manner she knew so well.
“You talked quite as well before you saw me—”
“I knew you were there—”
“Kindly let me have my hand. I have only two—”
“Nonsense! Let me hold your hand. I want to! I am going to—Why are you—”
“Haven’t you Hal’s hand?”
“Oh, my God! You don’t expect me to go through life holding one woman’s hand? Hal is the most fascinating woman in the world, and I love her—but I want you to let me love you, too.”