"You don't look a bit sorry."
"I don't believe a man is ever sorry unless he makes real trouble."
"Isn't losing faith in oneself real trouble?"
"And who has done that?"
"Why, Evelyn, of course. She thought that she was as unapproachable as an icicle, and now she says all sorts of wild things about herself. Just before you came in the children asked her to read Peter Rabbit to them. She said she would, but that she didn't think she was fit to."
I burst out laughing, and so did Lucy. "And still," she cried, "you don't look sorry."
"I'm looking at you," I said, "and I'm hanged if I can look at you and either feel sorry or half the time keep a straight face. And if I could, I wouldn't. As for Evelyn I'm glad she's found out that she isn't an icicle. Look here, I'll bet you a thousand dollars she's engaged or married within a year, beginning today."
"I couldn't pay if I lost," said Lucy. "But if you'll make it ten dollars, I'll take you ten times."
We shook hands, and then, as is usual, tried to prove that we had bet wisely.
"She's lonely," I said, "that's all that is the matter with her. She sees all her friends married and established, she has the perfectly ludicrous idea that she is not as young as she used to be. She feels like an ambitious thoroughbred that's been left at the post."