“Neither can I. But I think that I am sincere!”
“And please be careful how you change your attitude towards her; you are unconventional enough to refuse a woman upon the slightest pretext. I know that you will say ‘I regret exceedingly, Miss Sue, that you have misinterpreted my friendly attentions.’”
“I would like to; I think many things that I do not speak, Miss Tessa.”
“Your head and heart would echo a perpetual silence if you did not,” she laughed. “The Sphinx is a chatterbox compared to you.”
As they drove up under the maple-trees before the low iron gate, he said, “Has this year been a happy year to you? Do you sleep well?”
“Wouldn’t you like to look at my tongue and feel my pulse?” she returned in her lightest tone.
“Will you not answer me?” he asked gravely.
“This year has been the best year of my life.”
“So has it been my best year. This winter I shall decide several things pertaining to my future; it is my plan to practice for awhile—and not marry!”
Were those last words for her? Discomfited and wounded—oh, how wounded!—her lips refused to speak.