“She should join a circus.”
“I confess,” said my aunt, “I should not care for Conny to possess her accomplishments.”
“Oh, Conny is a thorough woman, all sweetness and tenderness.”
“And I daresay,” replied the gratified mother, “would be thought by many quite as pretty as her cousin.”
“I couldn’t conceive any girl prettier than Conny. I hope I shan’t frighten you,” I continued, carried away by my feelings, “if I tell you that I am in love with her.”
“Are you really?” she exclaimed, opening her eyes.
“Deeply in love with her, and I told her so last night.”
“And what did she say?” inquired my aunt eagerly.
“Why, she told me that I had not given her time to fall in love with me.”
“But did she seem pleased? did she seem gratified?”