arkle from our
scarcely tasted cup of acquaintance, you will talk to me of serious
things sometimes--will you not?"
"Why--yes," he said, surprised.
"I mean--as you would to a man. You will find me capable of
understanding you. You once said to me, in a boat, that no two normal
people of opposite sex can meet without experiencing more or less
wholesome interest in one another. Didn't you say that? Very well, then;
I now admit my normal interest in you--untinged by sentiment. Don't
disappoint me."
He said whimsically: "I'm not intellectual; I don't know very much about
anything except my profession."
"Then talk to me about it. Goodness! Don't I deserve it? Is a girl to
violate precept and instinct on an ill-considered impulse only to find
the man in the case was not worth it? And how do you know what else I
violated--merely to be kind. I must have been mad to do it!"
He flushed up so vividly that she winced, then added quickly: "I didn't
mean that, Mr. Hamil; I knew you were worth it when I did it."
"The worst of it is that I am not," he said. "I'm like everybody who has
been through college and chooses a profession for love of it. I do know
something about that profession; outside of it, the least I can say for
myself is that I care about everything that goes on in this very jolly
world. Curiosity has led me about by the nose. The result is a series of
acquired smatterings."
She regarded him intently with that clear gaze he found so refreshing--a
direct, fearless scrutiny which straightened her eyebrows to a
fascinating level and always made him think of a pagan marble, with
delicately chiselled, upcurled lips, and white brow youthfully grave.
"Did you study abroad?"
"Yes--not long enough."
She seemed rather astonished at this. Amused, he rested both elbows on
the parapet, looking at her from between the strong, lean hands that
framed his face.
"It was droll--the way I managed to scurry like a jack-rabbit through
school and college on nothing a year. I was obliged to hurry
post-graduate courses and Europe and such agreeable things. Otherwise I
would probably be more interesting to you--"
"You are sufficiently interesting," she said, flushing up at his wilful
misinterpretation.
And, as he laughed easily:
"The horrid thing about it is that you _are_ interesting and you know
it. All I asked of you was to be seriously interesting to
me--occasionally; and instead you are rude--"
"Rude!"
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