"No, he wasn't laughing at me. He was just talking courteously on about whatever had come first. But I couldn't bear it.
"'Eh—about that little matter,' I said absurdly, feeling more and more like a tradesman.
"'Yes, of course,' he instantly agreed. He drained his glass, put it delicately down on the table, and then turned to me.
"'If you will forgive a pointed question—did you keep your promise not to look where the house was?'
"I had given up being irritated, it was so clearly no use.
"'Of course I did.' I answered abruptly.
"'Good! How charming it is to meet in life what one is tired of meeting in books—for you are exactly like the English gentlemen in Mr. Oppenheim's novels who always lose secret documents and find beautiful wives. I envy them, and you—but oh, my dear sir, I do wish you were a little more wicked and human!'
"'Are you complaining of my being too good!' I burst out, amazed.
"He saw the point, and for the first time really laughed.