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"You—will—say——" Here he breaks down ignominiously, and confesses by his inability to proceed that he doesn't in the least know what it is she can say.,She makes various attempts at thinking it out. She places her pretty hands upon her prettier brows, under the mistaken impression common to most people that this attitude is conducive to the solution of mysteries; but with no result. Things will not arrange themselves.,She stands away from him, and looks at him with a face so pale, yet so earnest and intense, that he feels it will be unwise to argue further with her just now. So instead he takes both her hands and draws her to his side again.,"Yes" replies he, slowly as though regretful that he cannot deny his own identity.,"Eh! you don't mean to say that after all my devotion you would then refuse me?" asks Mr. Darling, with some disgust.,"Away from me," returns he, with some emotion, tightening his clasp around her.,"Mrs. Rodney will not mind wasting a quarter of an hour on an old woman," says the duchess, equably.,"But surely there must be moments when——","I do not understand," she says, very proudly, throwing up her head with a charming gesture. "And, talking of forgetfulness, do you know what hour it is?","Oh, how pretty!" cries one of them from the shadow as though grieved the dance has come so quickly to an end "How lovely!","Oh, I dare say. Yes, sometimes: but—" she hesitates, and this time the expression of her face cannot be misunderstood: dejection betrays itself in every line—"but it is not so with you, is it? No aunt has left you anything?","You are in love," returns his mother, contemptuously. "At present you can see no fault in her; but later on when you come to compare her with the other women in your own set, when you see them together, I only hope you will see no difference between them, and feel no regret.".