"I think not," said I.
"You would be her slave in—a month—three weeks—or much less—"
"Preposterous!" I exclaimed.
"If she set herself to make you!"
"That would be very immodest!" said I; "besides, no woman can make a man love her."
"Do your books teach you that, Peter?" Here, finding I did not answer, she laughed and nodded her head at me. "You would be head over ears in love before you knew it!"
"I think not," said I, smiling.
"You are the kind of man who would grow sick with love, and never know what ailed him."
"Any man in such a condition would be a pitiful ass!" said I.
Charmian only laughed at me again, and went back to her scribbling.