you—I know that. There is a great deal in your face to see."
This remark, under the circumstances, struck me as absurd; I began to laugh again. "You speak of it as if it were a collection of curiosities." He looked away now, he would n't meet my eye, and I saw that I had made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable. To lead the conversation back into the commonplace, I asked him where he intended to drive.
"It does n't matter much where we go—it 's so pretty everywhere now." He was evidently not thinking of his drive, and suddenly he broke out, "I want to know whether you think she likes me."
"I have n't the least idea. She has n't told me."
"Do you think she knows that I mean to propose to her?"
"You ought to be able to judge of that better than I."
"I am afraid of taking too much for granted; also of taking her by surprise."
"So that in her agitation she might accept you? Is that what you are afraid of?"
"I don't know what makes you say that. I wish her to accept me."
"Are you very sure?"
"Perfectly sure. Why not? She is a charming creature."
"So much the better, then; perhaps she will."
"You don't believe it," he exclaimed, as if it were very clever of him to have discovered that.
