He was, she thought, a little too insistent. "Women know these things by
instinct," she answered.

"I wonder," he said, "if women do know things by instinct? I have
my doubts about feminine instinct. It's one of our conventional
superstitions. A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with
her. Do you think she does?"

Ann Veronica picked among her salad with a judicial expression of face.
"I think she would," she decided.

"Ah!" said Ramage, impressively.

Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that
were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw
much more expression than they could carry. There was a little pause
between them, full for Ann Veronica of rapid elusive suspicions and
intimations.

"Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman's instinct," she said. "It's
a way of avoiding explanations. And girls and women, perhaps, are
different. I don't know. I don't suppose a girl can tell if a man is in
love with her or not in love with her." Her mind went off to Capes. Her
thoughts took words for themselves. "She can't. I suppose it depends on
her own state of mind. If one wants a thing very much, perhaps one is
inclined to think one can't have it. I suppose if one were to love some
one, one would feel doubtful. And if one were to love some one very
much, it's just so that one would be blindest, just when one wanted most
to see."

She stopped abruptly, afraid that Ramage might be able to infer Capes
from the things she had said, and indeed his face was very eager.

"Yes?" he said.

Ann Veronica blushed. "That's all," she said "I'm afraid I'm a little
confused about these things."

Ramage looked at her, and then fell into deep reflection as the waiter
came to paragraph their talk again.

"Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?" said Ramage.

"Once or twice."

"Shall we go now?"

"I think I would like to listen to music. What is there?"

"Tristan."

"I've never heard Tristan and Isolde."

"That settles it. We'll go. There's sure to be a place somewhere."

"It's rather jolly of you," said Ann Veronica.

"It's jolly of you to come," said Ramage.

So presently they got into a hansom together, and Ann Veronica sat back
feeling very luxurious and pleasant, and looked at the light and stir
and misty glitter of the street traffic from under slightly drooping
eyelids, while Ramage sat closer to her than he need have done, and
glanced ev