"I didn't say that."
"You will—" said Mr. Linden,—"I can imagine you falling back in your chair and exclaiming, 'Ah, quand voulez-vous partir, monsieur!'—which of course will make it extremely difficult for me to remain a moment longer."
"I don't think you can imagine me doing it," said Faith laughing. "I can't imagine myself."
"That proves nothing. Only don't ever say to me, 'Monsieur! partez à l'instant!'—because—"
"Because what, Mr. Linden?" said Faith seriously.
"Because we might disagree upon that point," he said with rather a demure arch of his eyebrows. Faith's full silver rang out, softly.
"You see!" she said. "It's beginning already. I don't know in the least what you are talking about!"
"No—you do not," was the laughing reply. "But Miss Faith, if I am kept at home long enough, and society keeps at home too, instead of coming between us and our exercises, those conversations will seem less terrible by the time they begin. I should certainly get you a pocket dictionary, but I prefer to be that myself. How far can you ride on horseback at once?"
"On horseback?" said Faith, much as if those words had been also
French, or an algebraical puzzle.
"That was what I said."