"You silly girl," he said. "What is it you really do wish?"
"I wish there was no one in the world but you and me."
"Ah, you'd find it very crowded at times," said Colville sadly. "Well, well," he added, "I'll go to your fandangoes, because you want me to go."
"That's all I wished you to say," she replied, lifting her head, and looking him radiantly in the face. "I don't want you to go at all! I only want you to promise that you'll come here every night that you're invited out, and read to Mrs. Bowen and me."
"Oh, I can't do that," said Colville; "I'm too fond of society. For example, I've been invited to an Egyptian fancy ball, and I couldn't think of giving that up."
"Oh, how delightful you are! They couldn't any of them talk like you."
He had learned to follow the processes of her thought now. "Perhaps they can when they come to my age."
"There!" she exclaimed, putting her hand on his mouth again, to remind him of another broken promise. "Why can't you give up the Egyptian ball?"
"Because I expect to meet a young lady there—a very beautiful young lady."
"But how shall you know her if she's disguised?"