And there had been a pause here.
"I suppose Reuben is as tender upon her as ever," Phil had said at last, in his off-hand way.
"He has been very devoted; but I'm not sure that it means anything, Phil, dear."
"I should think it meant a great deal," said Phil.
"I mean," continued Rose, reflectingly, and with some embarrassment of speech, "I don't think Adèle speaks of Reuben as if—as I should—think—
"As you would, Rose,—is that it?"
"For shame, Phil!"
And Phil begged pardon with a kiss.
"Do you think, Phil," said Rose, concealing a little fluttering of the heart under very smoothly spoken words, "do you think that Reuben really loves Adèle?"
"Think so? To be sure, Rose. How can he help it? It's enough for me to see her as I do, odd whiles in our parlor, or walking up and down the garden with you, Rose; if I were to meet her every night and morning, as Reuben must, I should go mad."