"You have a complaisant family," she remarked.
"Yes!" he said, and laughed; "yes, I have a very complaisant family." Then he abruptly changed the subject.—"Shall we walk in the park, or do you prefer the esplanade—or shall we walk, at all?"
"The esplanade, by all means," she said, not daring to venture an immediate return to the subject.
For it was evident that he had deliberately veered, and, as she had assumed to treat him, hitherto, as unmarried, she might not, now, shift her attitude without just cause. And she had no cause—not even a suspicion that was based on anything. Moreover, for her to question it, now, would be inexcusable, and, if she were wrong, would cause a break in their friendship. And that she was not prepared to chance. In fact, at the present moment, she did not know whether she preferred Sir Edward Parkington or Richard Maynadier. The one was a great catch and a charming man, but he was an American—and, besides, was not sufficiently responsive to her charms; the other was a Britisher, but, she feared, was not for her, who could bring no fortune with her.
She stole a glance at her companion. He was slowly plucking to pieces a rose.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Testing your affection:—love me, love me not; love me—shall I continue."
"Pray do," she said; "I am curious to know the answer."
"It is undecided, then?" banteringly.
"Yes—sometimes I do, and sometimes I do not, and sometimes—I am in a state of equipoise. Let the rose tell what it is, at present."