“I suppose not. Neither should I have known, if any one had said that to me.”
“You are thinking about the mother,” said Stanmer. “Why are you always bringing her in?”
“My dear boy, the analogy is so great it forces itself upon me.”
He stopped and stood looking at me with his modest, perplexed young face. I thought he was going to exclaim—“The analogy be hanged!”—but he said after a moment—
“Well, what does it prove?”
“I can’t say it proves anything; but it suggests a great many things.”
“Be so good as to mention a few,” he said, as we walked on.
“You are not sure of her yourself,” I began.
“Never mind that—go on with your analogy.”
“That’s a part of it. You are very much in love with her.”