Lucy sat up. "No," she said, "I became interested in you first."
That beat him. "You became interested in me? Why? Because I didn't care for you?"
"No," she said sharply; "no! Because I thought that you did."
James felt rather faint. "I can't follow you. You thought that I didn't, you said?" Lucy was now excited, and full of her wrongs.
"How extraordinary! Surely you see? I had reason to think that you cared for me very much—oh, very much indeed; and then I found out that you didn't care a bit more than usual; and then—well, then—" James, who was too apt to undervalue people, did not attempt to pursue the embroilment. But he valued her in this melting mood. He held her very close.
"Well," he said, "and now you find that I do care—and what then?"
She looked at him, divinely shy. "Oh, if you really care—"
This would have made any man care. "Well, if I really do—?"
"Ah!" She hid her face on his shoulder. "I shall love to be in Norway."
James felt very triumphant; but true to type, he sent her upstairs to dress with the needless injunction to make herself look pretty.