"The day we left Mitchellton. And I said I'd wear it—oh, just till I met somebody I liked better! It was really more of a joke!..."
"Ah! And you haven't met such a person yet, I gather?"
"Oh—I'm not to send it back till I know—"
"How long," said the young authority, at once completely conscious of the supreme inanity of the proceedings, and finding them enjoyable enough, "how long do you allow yourself to find out?"
"That isn't easy to tell.... Do you know you're the strangest man!"
"Am I? How do I seem so strange to you?"
The little hand was warm, not unpleasant to retain. The eyes, gazing up at him, were liquid and bright; they were woman's eyes. "Consider me," they seemed to say. "Am I not sweet, desirable? Am I not worthy to be held dear? Was I not made to delight? See, I am Woman, beside you...."
"Oh," said the soft voice, "the way you do. Cousin Mary says you're the new sort of man, that isn't interested in girls at all. You're too clever to care anything about them. Are you?"
"Clever? I'd call that the stupidest thing in the world."
"Then you do like them! I'm so glad. I've wondered, you see...."