"Confound your work! Excuse me, but I mean it. I want you to listen to me. Believe me, you will need all your thoughts."
She looked at me steadily a moment, and I returned her glance. During that moment I was reflecting whether I might silently emphasize my request by laying a lover's hand upon her shoulder. I decided that I might not. She walked over and quietly seated herself in a low chair by the fire. Here she patiently folded her arms. I sat down before her.
"With you, Miss Blunt," said I, "one must be very explicit. You are not in the habit of taking things for granted. You have a great deal of imagination, but you rarely exercise it on the behalf of other people." I stopped a moment.
"Is that my crime?" asked my companion.
"It's not so much a crime as a vice," said I; "and perhaps not so much a vice as a virtue. Your crime is, that you are so stone-cold to a poor devil who loves you."
She burst into a rather shrill laugh. I wonder whether she thought I meant Johnson.
"Who are you speaking for, Mr. Locksley?" she asked.
"Are there so many? For myself."
"Honestly?"
"Honestly doesn't begin to express it."