They were engaged.
"Well?" he cried, with great animation.
"No," was the despondent reply.
"Refused?" screeched the other; "impossible!"
"No, thank you," was the haughty reply.
"What then? Did you change your mind? Didn't you propose after all?"
"I _couldn't._ That d--d pony wouldn't keep still."
Fountain groaned.
Lucy, left to herself, gave a little sigh of relief. She had been
playing a part for the last twenty-four hours. Her cordiality with Mr.
Talboys naturally misled Eve and David, and perhaps a male reader or
two. Shall I give the clue? It may be useful to you, young gentlemen.
Well, then, her sex are compounders. Accustomed from childhood never
to have anything entirely their own way, they are content to give and
take; and, these terms once accepted, it is a point of honor and tact
with them not to let a creature see the irksome part of the bargain is
not as delicious as the other. One coat of their own varnish goes over
the smooth and the rough, the bitter and the sweet.
Now Lucy, besides being singularly polite and kind, was _femme
jusqu' au bout des ongles._ If her instincts had been reasons, and
her vague thoughts could have been represented by anything so definite
as words, the result might have appeared thus:
"A few hours, and you can bore me no more, Mr. Talboys. Now what must
I do for you in return? _Seem not to be bored to-day? Mais c'est la
moindre des choses. Seem to be pleased with your society?_ Why not?
it is only for an hour or two, and my seeming to like it will not
prolong it.
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