Here Charley gave her hand a voluntary little squeeze against his heart. [Inadequate statement of an actual occurrence. C. F.]
“The fact is, I want to ask you a question, and am actually afraid you won’t answer it. There, I knew you would not! A cloud passed over your face at the very word question. You are so strange about some things!”
“Let’s hear the question; what is it about?”
“About the Don. There! Why, you are positively frowning!”
“Frowning!”
“Yes; your face hardened as soon as I uttered the word Don.”
“The Don! What am I supposed to know about him? Have not you known him as long as I, and longer?”
“Oh, I am not going to ask you who he is, or anything of that kind. I presume he alone knows that.” (Charley’s face grew serene.) “It is something entirely different. Is the Don—I know you will think it idle curiosity, but, indeed, indeed, it is not—is the Don—in love?”
“Is the Don in love?” cried Charley, with a sudden peal of laughter. “Is the Don in love? And that is the weighty question that you have made such a pother about! Is the Don in love!”
“That sounds more like my question than an answer to it.”