“I want to see your eyes,” said Peter.
“Why?” asked Leonore, promptly looking down again.
“Well,” said Peter, “I’ve been dreaming all my life about some eyes, and I want to see what my dream is like in reality.”
“That’s a very funny request,” said Leonore perversely. “You ought to have found out about them long ago. The idea of any one falling in love, without knowing about the eyes!”
“But you show your eyes so little,” said Peter. “I’ve never had a thoroughly satisfying look at them.”
“You look at them every time I look at you,” said Leonore. “Sometimes it was very embarrassing. Just supposing that I showed them to you now, and that you find they aren’t what you like?”
“I never waste time discussing impossibilities,” said Peter. “Are you going to let me see them?”
“How long will it take?”
“I can tell better after I’ve seen them,” said Peter, astutely.
“I don’t think I have time this evening,” said Leonore, still perversely, though smiling a look of contentment down into the fire.