“Now, seriously, my —ous —ing, you did not expect me to answer such a question as that?”
“No, I didn’t!” (A little snappishly.) “Any other man—under the circumstances—”
“Yes, I believe I am very different from other men, and it is well; for if every man were of my way of thinking, every girl in the world, save one, would be deserted; and soon there would be but one man left on earth,—such a Kilkenny fight would rage around that one girl!”
“I knew you would not answer my question.” (Not snappishly.)
“How am I to know anything about it?”
“You and he are inseparable—”
“And hence he has made a confidant of me, and I am to betray him? No, he has never alluded to any such matter. Upon my word, I know nothing whatever upon the subject.”
“Indeed? You are a droll couple, to be sure,” and she looked up, admiringly, at one-half of the couple, “talking together for hours, and never telling one another anything! Well, then, I shall answer the question myself: The Don is in love: there!”
“What extraordinary creatures women are, to be sure! You ask a question, are vexed at getting no answer, and then answer it yourself! The Don is in love, then; but with whom?”
“That I don’t know; I only suspect. Oh, yes, I more than suspect; in fact, I know, but some of the girls don’t agree with me, and I want to know which side you are on.”