BOOK THIRD: MR. LONGDON
"Oh, you've got time—you can come round again; you've a margin for accidents, for disappointments and recoveries; you can take one thing with another. But I've only my last little scrap."
"And you want to make no mistakes—I see."
"Well—I'm too easily upset."
"Ah, so am I," said Nanda. "I assure you that, in spite of what you say, I want to make no mistakes either. I've seen a great many—though you mightn't think it," she persisted; "I really know what they may be. Do you like me?" she brought forth. But even on this she spared him too; a look appeared to have been enough for her. "How can you say, of course, already?—if you can't say for Mr. Van. I mean as you've seen him so much. When he asked me just now if I liked you, I told him it was too soon. But it isn't, now; you see it goes fast. I do like you." She gave him no time to acknowledge this tribute, but, as if it were a matter of course, tried him quickly with something else. "Can you say if you like mother?"
He could meet it pretty well now. "There are immense reasons why I should."
"Yes—I know about them, as I mentioned: mother has told me." But what she had to put to him kept up his surprise. "Have reasons anything to do with it? I don't believe you like her!" she exclaimed. "She doesn't think so," she added.
The old man's face, at last, partly bewildered, partly reassured, showed even more something finer still in the effect she produced. "Into what mysteries you plunge!"
"Oh, we do; that's what every one says of us. We discuss everything and every one—we're always discussing each other. I think we must be rather celebrated for it, and it's a kind of trick—isn't it?—that's catching. But don't you think it's the most interesting sort of talk? Mother says we haven't any prejudices. You
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