“And so did I.”
“Well?”
“I saw, of course, how often he glanced towards me, and I was conscious that even while I was speaking to others his eyes were upon me. But there are looks and looks. You men don’t understand anything about such matters.”
“And where, pray, did you learn all this mysterious language of looks and looks?”
“I am a woman.”
“So is Alice.”
“Ah, yes; but, Alice—well, girls like to say that kind of thing to each other,—it’s encouraging, you know. Why do you smile? It is pleasant, of course, to be told that we have destroyed some man’s peace of mind, though we know it to be highly improbable in point of fact. I shall reciprocate, at the first opportune, by telling Alice with what sweet pain she has filled the breast of dear good Mr. Frobisher.”
“Do you think so?” I exclaimed. “That would be too good! The woman-hater! Capital!”
“Stranger things have happened. Did you not see how he blushed just now? But as to the Don, do you know he is a greater mystery to me now than ever? Every woman instinctively knows what a man’s looks mean.”
“Well, what did the Don’s glances signify?”