at were you going to say?"

Campbell: "Do you actually wish to know?"

Mrs. Somers: "Oh no; I only thought you wished to tell."

Campbell: "Not at all. You complained of my being silent."

Mrs. Somers: "Did I? I was wrong. I will never do so again." She laughs
in her fan.

Campbell: "And I complain of your delay. You can tell me now, just as
well as two weeks hence, whether you love me enough to marry me or
not."

Mrs. Somers: "You promised not to recur to that subject without some
hint from me. You have broken your promise."

Campbell: "Well, you wouldn't give me any hint."

Mrs. Somers: "How can I believe you care for me if you are false in
this?"

Campbell: "It seems to me that my falsehood is another proof of my
affection."

Mrs. Somers: "Very well, then; you can wait till I know my mind."

Campbell: "I'd rather know your heart. But I'll wait." After a pause:
"Why do you carry a fan on a day like this? I ask, to make general
conversation."

Mrs. Somers, spreading the fan in her lap, and looking at it curiously:
"I don't know." After a moment: "Oh yes; for the same reason that I
shall have ice-cream after dinner to-day."

Campbell: "That's no reason at all." After a moment: "Are you going to
have ice-cream to-day after dinner?"

Mrs. Somers: "I might. If I had company."

Campbell: "Oh, I couldn't stay after hinting. I'm too proud for that."
He pulls his chair nearer and joins her in examining the fan in her lap.
"What is so very strange about your fan?"

Mrs. Somers: "Nothing. I was just seeing how a fan looked that was the
subject of gratuitous criticism."

Campbell: "I didn't criticise the _fan_." He regards it studiously.

Mrs. Somers: "Oh! _Not_ the fan?"

Campbell: "No; I think it's extremely pretty. I like big fans."

Mrs. Somers: "So good of you! It's Spanish. That's why it's so large."

Campbell: "It's hand-painted, too."

Mrs. Somers, leaning back, and leaving him to the inspection of the fan:
"You're a connoisseur, Mr. Campbell."

Campbell: "Oh, I can tell hand-painting from machine-painting when I see
it. 'Tisn't so good."

Mrs. Somers: "Thank you."

Campbell: "Not at all. Now, that fellow--cavalier, I suppose, in
Spain--making love in that attitude, you can see at a glance that _he's_
hand-painted. No _machine_-painted cavalier would do it in that way.
And look at the lady's hand. Who ever saw a hand of that size before?"

Mrs. Somers, unclasping the hands which she had f