“I wish,” said Teddy Cleeve, folding his arms as he sat on the low stone wall, and looking at her, “that I was clever.”
“Aren’t you clever?”
“No.”
“And if you were?”
“If I were, I’d know what you are thinking about.”
This, too, is a milestone on the Dover Road.
“What I am thinking about? Well, at that moment I was thinking about you.”
“Honor bright?”
“Honor bright. I was wondering what you will be like in fifteen years.”