“There’s a great deal of feeling in what you say,” responded the Marquise, with innocent gravity, “but I’m not sure I know what the feeling is about. Is it about yourself?”
“I don’t believe there’s a fellow alive who could feel anything about himself when he’s with you: that is, except to feel that he felt ... you might feel....”
“There! see how mysterious you are. I’m afraid you’re chaffing me!” put in the lady, delivering Tom a glance that might have upset an ascetic of seventy.
“Oh, this is too bad, and I can’t stand it!” cried Mr. Bendibow with a groan. Then he burst out: “ ’Tis you I feel about, Perdita! and I don’t care who knows it! I’ve met lots of women in my life, and—all that sort of thing; but never a woman like you, and I don’t believe there is another like you in the whole world. And if you’d only ... look here! Can’t you feel that way for me? Oh, do!”
“Oh! Tom, is it really about me?” cried the lovely Marquise, in the tenderest warble of a voice. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed at him with hesitating wonder, as if, in the first place, she had that instant realized the fact that such a person as herself existed; and secondly, was struggling to comprehend so incredible a circumstance as that another person should exist who could regard her otherwise than with indifference. Miranda upon Setebos would have seemed a sophisticated woman of the world beside the Marquise Desmoines at that moment.
Having allowed this shaft time to rankle, she proceeded. “But why do you ask me whether I feel for you? You know I love you, Tom. Have I ever disguised it?”
“You love me? O Perdita!” cried the gentleman, fairly breaking into a giggle of unanticipated bliss.
“Why, who could help loving you?”
Tom suddenly became grave, with a momentary misgiving. “But you understand I mean marrying,” said he; “husband and wife, you know!”
She replied with a smile of radiant sympathy, “Ah! well, now I do understand you. You mean to marry, and you are come to tell me all about it! Sit down here beside me and begin. Is she worthy of you, Tom? But first, tell me her name!”