“Not so certain as to be free from excitement,” said Jeff, smiling.
“And are you consumed with the melancholy that seems to be balling up all the men at the prospect of having to leave Harvard and go out into the hard, cold world?”
“I don't look it, do I? Jeff asked:
“No, you don't. And you don't feel it? You're not trying concealment, and so forth?”
“No; if I'd had my own way, I'd have left Harvard before this.” He could see that his bold assumption of difference, or indifference, told upon her. “I couldn't get out into the hard, cold world too soon.”
“How fearless! Most of them don't know what they're going to do in it.”
“I do.”
“And what are you going to do? Or perhaps you think that's asking!”
“Oh no. I'm going to keep a hotel.”
He had hoped to startle her, but she asked, rather quietly, “What do you mean?” and she added, as if to punish him for trying to mystify her: “I've heard that it requires gifts for that. Isn't there some proverb?”