"Oh!"
"And the fancy suddenly struck me that I should like to marry that girl; and, before I had finished my cup, my mind was made up—I determined she should be my wife. That's all."
"That's all, is it?" says Addie, drawing a long breath. "I—I don't like your story much. You were determined, were you? And do you always get what you determine on?"
"I don't want to boast; but I've been rather lucky up to the present."
"And, if the thing—the person is determined the other way, what then?"
"What then? You know every Britisher has a bit of the bull in him, and enjoys his fight, and you have heard also that flowers out of reach—nearly out of reach—smell the sweetest."
"Oh, there speaks the man all over! You've one touch of nature with my boys, at any rate, Mr. Armstrong—anything well out of reach has the most attraction for them. Bob always gathers his fruit from the ridge of the wall, and Hal would climb the tallest elm in the grove to rob a nest, and yet never lay hand on that of the thrush that builds every year in the gloire de Dijon under the window."
"Well, my limbs are not as supple as they were twenty years ago. I wonder shall I have to climb very high for the nest I want?"
Addie looks down and makes no reply.
They have now reached the brougham, into which he assists her carefully, placing his stout ash by her side.