“Well, I don’t see what there is to laugh at so much. When you ask me a thing I tell you just what I think, and it seems to set you off in a perfect gale. Don’t you expect people to say what they think?”
“I think it’s beautiful,” said the young man, going into the gale, “and I’ve got to expecting it of you, at any rate. But—but it’s always so surprising! It isn’t what you expect of people generally, is it?”
“I don’t expect it of you,” said Lottie.
“No?” asked Mr. Breckon, in another gale. “Am I so uncandid?”
“I don’t know about uncandid. But I should say you were slippery.”
At this extraordinary criticism the young man looked graver than he had yet been able to do since the beginning of their acquaintance. He said, presently, “I wish you would explain what you mean by slippery.”
“You’re as close as a trap!”
“Really?”
“It makes me tired.”
“If you’re not too tired now I wish you would say how.”