"Oh. And to which suitor should I give my smile?"
"Well," said I, sullenly, "there is Nick. There also is your Cornet of Horse—young Jack-boots. And there is the young gentleman whose picture you wear in your bosom."
"Captain Watts?" she asked, so naïvely that jealousy stabbed me instantly, so that my smile became a grimace.
"Sure," said I, "you think tenderly on Stephen Watts."
"Yes."
"In fact," I almost groaned, "you entertain for him those virtuous sentiments not unbecoming to the maiden of his choice.... Do you not, Penelope?"
"He has courted me a year. I find him agreeable. Also, I pity him—although his impatience causes me concern and his ardour inconveniences me.... The sentiments I entertain for him are virtuous, as you say, sir. And so are my sentiments for any man."
"But is not your heart engaged in this affair?"
"With Captain Watts?"
"Yes."