"What a darling you are," I cried. "I am simply sitting here getting thoroughly fascinated by you--here this very moment thoroughly fascinated.... There is no help for it.... You are the most extraordinary creature that ... sometimes your eyes gleam so, that I never saw their match; they look like flowers ... eh? No, well, no, perhaps, not like flowers, either, but ... I am so desperately in love with you, and it is so preposterous ... for, great Scott! there is naturally not an atom of a chance for me.... What is your name? Now, you really must tell me what you are called."
"No; what is your name? Gracious, I was nearly forgetting that again! I thought about it all yesterday, that I meant to ask you--yes, that is to say, not all yesterday, but--"
"Do you know what I named you? I named you Ylajali. How do you like that? It has a gliding sound...."
"Ylajali?"
"Yes."
"Is that a foreign language?"
"Humph--no, it isn't that either!"
"Well, it isn't ugly!"
After a long discussion we told one another our names. She seated herself close to my side on the sofa, and shoved the chair away with her foot, and we began to chatter afresh.
"You are shaved this evening, too," she said; look on the whole a little better than the last time--that is to say, only just a scrap better. Don't imagine ... no; the last time you were really shabby, and you had a dirty rag round your finger into the bargain; and in that state you absolutely wanted me to go to some place, and take wine with you--thanks, not me!"