become the most egotistical, maundering little person in Christendom? You listen to my complainings, at home no one ever does! Who was it said that there were two people in the world one should never trust one's self to talk about—one's self and one's enemy?"
"A foolish man whoever he was," says Paul, "who knew nothing of human nature, for are not those two naturally the most interesting people under the sun?"
"I do not think I have an enemy?" I say, considering: "have you?"
"No particular one that I know of, though there are plenty of people who dislike me, no doubt. When you are back at Silverbridge, Nell, I shall see you very often, shall I not?"
"If papa does not take a dislike to you."
"I shall be glad to be back there," he says, with a hearty content in his voice. "After a bit, I suppose, I shall settle down and grow fat!"
"I don't think so," I say, glancing at his clean length of limb. "A man need never do that unless he pleases; he has so many active exercises by which he can ward off stoutness. Now, a woman has only got to sit down, and be free from worry of body or soul, to grow fat directly!"
"Then some day I may expect to see you of very comely proportions?"
"No, lean and haggard and ill-favoured very likely, but stout never. I bother myself too much over everything for that."
"Your husband will take better care of you," he says; then, bending his head to look into my eyes with those splendid dark ones, that send so sharp and quick a pain through my heart, "has it never occurred to you, child, that some day you will marry?"
"Everybody does at some time or another, do they not? It is a solid heavy pudding of which all taste in turn!"
