"Very likely," said his friend composedly,--"I could have guessed as much; but that is a fire you may warm yourself at; no eternal phosphorescence;--it is the leaping up of an internal fire, that only shews itself upon occasion."
"I suppose you know what you are talking about," said Charlton, "but I can't follow you into the region of volcanos. Constance Evelyn has superb eyes. It is uncommon to see a light blue so brilliant."
"I would rather trust a sick head to the handling of the lovely lady than the superb one, at a venture."
"I thought you never had a sick head," said Charlton.
"That is lucky for me, as the hands do not happen to be at my service. But no imagination could put Miss Constance in Desdemona's place, when Othello complained of his headache,--you remember, Charlton,--
''Faith, that's with watching--'twill away again-- Let me but bind this handkerchief about it hard.'"
Thorn gave the intonation truly and admirably.
"Fleda never said anything so soft as that," said Charlton.
"No?"
"No."