"Why can't it be? It is."
"But--you're not sure. How can you be sure? You know, my dear Mabel, how you do fancy things. I'll bet ten to one that you're mistaken."
"Do you suppose that I haven't tried to make myself think that I'm mistaken? I wouldn't believe it. But it's no use pretending any longer; it's sure. What are you going to do?"
"What am I going to do? That's--that's a nice brick to aim at a fellow without the slightest warning."
"I'm sorry; I can't help it; I must know. What are you going to do?"
"My dear girl, you know that you've no more actual knowledge on such a subject than I have. I hope--and I think it's very possible--that you are wrong. Let's, first of all, make sure."
"Very well--we'll make sure. And when we've made sure what are you going to do--if it is sure?"
"We'll discuss that when we've made sure. Give me a chance to think; you've had one. It seems that you've guessed, goodness knows how long. Give me a chance to get my thoughts into order."
"I can't wait; I must know now. What are you going to do--if it is sure?"
"I'll do everything that a man can do--you know that perfectly well. You've knocked the sense all out of me! Do give me a chance to think! Don't look at me with that stand-and-deliver air! Come here, old lady, and let me kiss those pretty eyes of yours; I can't bear to have them look like that."