"Have I offended you?"
"No," she answered without looking around, "only sometimes you are so very—personal."
"Because the First and Second Persons Singular Number are the most interesting persons in the world, and—Hermione, in all this big world there is only one person I want. Could you ever learn to love a peanut man?"
"That would all depend—on the peanut man," she answered softly, "and you—you don't talk or act a little bit like a real peanut man."
"Well, could you stoop to love this peanut man just as he is, with all his faults and failures, love him enough to trust yourself to his keeping, to follow him into the unknown, to help him find that Beautiful City of Perhaps—could you, Hermione?" As he ended he rose to his feet, but swiftly, dexterously, she eluded him.
"Wait!" she pleaded, facing him across the table, "I—I want to talk to you—to ask you some questions, and I want you to be serious, please."
"Solemn as sixty judges!" he nodded.
"Well, first, Mr. Geoffrey—why do you pretend to sell peanuts?"
"Pretend!" he repeated, trying to sound aggrieved.
"Oh, I'm not blind, Mr. Geoffrey."