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ut the great mystery of love, and Christopher thought about the length of Elisabeth's eyelashes. "Do you think that Alan is in love with Felicia?" the girl asked at last. "Appearances favour the supposition," replied Christopher. "You once said he wasn't capable of loving any woman." "I know I did; but that didn't in the least mean that he wasn't capable of loving Miss Herbert." "She is very attractive; even you like her better than you like me," Elisabeth remarked, looking at him through the very eyelashes about which he was thinking. "I wonder at it, but nevertheless you do." "One never can explain these things. At least I never can, though you seem to possess strange gifts of divination. I remember that you once expounded to me that either affinity or infinity was at the root of these matters--I forget which." "She is certainly good-looking," Elisabeth went on. "She is; her dearest friend couldn't deny that." "And she has sweet manners." "Distinctly sweet. She is the sort of girl that people call restful." "And a lovely temper." Christopher still refused to be drawn. "So I conclude. I have never ruffled it--nor tried to ruffle it--nor even desired to ruffle it." "Do you like ruffling people's tempers?" "Some people's tempers, extremely." "What sort of people's?" "I don't know. I never schedule people into 'sorts,' as you do. The people I care about can not be counted by 'sorts': there is one made of each, and then the mould is broken." "You do like Felicia better than me, don't you?" Elisabeth asked, after a moment's silence. "So you say, and as you are a specialist in these matters I think it wise to take your statements on faith without attempting to dispute them." "Chris, you are a goose!" "I know that--far better than you do." And Christopher sighed. "But I like you all the same." "That is highly satisfactory." "I believe I always liked you better than Alan," Elisabeth continued, "only his way of talking about things dazzled me somehow. But after a time I found out that he always said more than he meant, while you always mean more than you say." "Oh! Tremaine isn't half a bad fellow: his talk is, as you say, a little high-flown; but he takes himself in more than he takes in other people, and he really means well." Christopher could afford to be magnanimous toward Alan, now that Elisabeth was the reverse. "I remember that day at Pembruge Castle, while he wa
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