"The weakness of man."
"Is that what you told 'Léna?"
"No; it is not."
"What did you tell her—Oh, how horrid of me to ask! Let's talk about something else. Do you like California better than New York?"
"It will take exactly eight minutes to exhaust that subject; I am an old hand at it. So while I assure you that I do, and am giving my reasons, please cast about for a subject to follow."
"My thinker is not good to-night. I expect you to take care of me."
"What greater delight! You are paler than you were. Are you not well?"
Trennahan's voice became tender from long habit. The softness and fire sprang to Helena's eyes. The pink tide poured into her cheeks. A sudden intense light sprang into Trennahan's eyes. It held hers for the fraction of a moment, then both looked away; and ate their oysters.
It was Helena who spoke first. "Another moment, and we should have been launched into the second chapter. But we are not to flirt; we understand that thoroughly. I don't think, on second thoughts, that I should like you at all. You have yourself too well in hand; you look as if you had been through it all too many times; there isn't a bit of freshness about you—Oh, bother, I hate lying! I'll tell you plainly and have done with it,—I should be in love with you by this time if it were not for 'Léna. That's not the way of older climes, but it's mine: I've got to talk out or die. I've always said everything that occurred to me. Let's talk this out, and then we'll never talk for two minutes alone again. If you had not been in love with 'Léna, should you be in love with me by this time?"
He put his fork down abruptly and turned to her. She shrank a little. "I think we had better let that subject alone. As a product of older climes, I am competent to judge."