I
thought it rather clever in me to force her into a position where her
refusal to tell me that she did not care for me would drive her to a
half avowal. Of course, I had little fear of the former, or perhaps I
should not have been so anxious to precipitate the issue.
She did not answer me directly, but said: "From the way you looked at
Mary to-day, I was led to think you cared little for any other girl's
opinion."
"Ah! Mistress Jane!" cried I joyfully; "I have you at last; you are
jealous."
"I give you to understand, sir, that your vanity has led you into a
great mistake."
"As to your caring for me, or your jealousy? Which?" I asked
seriously. Adroit, wasn't that?
"As to the jealousy, Edwin. There, now; I think that is saying a good
deal. Too much," she said pleadingly; but I got something more before
she left, even if it was against her will; something that made it
almost impossible for me to hold my feet to the ground.
Jane pouted, gave me a sharp little slap and then ran away, but at the
door she turned and threw back a rare smile that was priceless to me;
for it told me she was not angry; and furthermore shed an illuminating
ray upon a fact which I was blind not to have seen long before; that
is, that Jane was one of those girls who must be captured _vi et
armis_.
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